Poop, Vern, Poop!!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

I am hoping the title of my blog makes you think about the line from Forrest Gump and the simple way in which Forrest viewed and shared the world.  Just like my Vern, Forrest was sweet and innocent, and had his own unique spin on life.  Vern is a dog that doesn’t put a lot of thought into things or maybe puts as much thought as he can into things, but is truly the most endearing dog I have ever owned.  He will do just about anything for a treat and if I could teach him how to quickly do his business for a treat the time I would save would be life altering.  Unfortunately, I haven’t figured out that training technique, so most of the time I sit and wait and strongly encourage him to hurry up.

 

Recently, I traveled back to Pennsylvania to take care of some loose ends with our old house and decided it would be easier for me to take the dogs with me than to try and find a dog sitter.  It is a ten-hour trip by car and the first one ever I made completely alone with my dogs.  I have found when you travel by Toll Road, the rest stops are not all that great for walking dogs and usually you will find me stopped way out by the trucks walking my dogs in less than stellar conditions.  Maybe I am just not stopping at the right ones, but the farther away we are from distractions, the easier it is for Vern.  Vern is easily distracted and could be in the middle of a colonoscopy prep and stop what his body is telling him to do if he hears a noise, sees a bird fly by, or suspects a small toddler is about to wave at him from a stroller.  In other words, conditions must be ideal for Vern to go potty.

 

The thing is this is the only thing that makes traveling with the dogs more complicated than traveling with friends or family.  My dogs are actually great companions in the car.  Hayley is like the Silence police in the car and doesn’t like to hear me open a package of crackers, play with my Slurpee straw, sing, or talk and God forbid I try and have a conversation with her and take time away from the relationship she has with her phone. I like to take every opportunity I can to mention to her that in my day, we had real conversations and didn’t just text and once I said, “Put down that damn phone. There are people that would kill to go on a road trip with me,” and all she did was ask if I wanted to use her phone to call or text them.  She takes great delight in telling me, as she is putting on her headphones, that her new headphones make it virtually impossible to hear any noise in the car.  I know she is telling the truth because I have found you can say any horrible thing in her direction and as long as you say it with a smile, she has no clue that you are talking about her and how rude she is being to you in the car.  It is like a fun game I play in the car all by myself and those headphones also keep her from glancing in my direction with her disapproving stares as I listen to Sirius radio and Howard Stern.  We should all be allowed one guilty pleasure and Howard is mine and I get tired of Sister Mary Hayley offering up her commentary about him.  I feel like a teenage boy explaining to his mom, after he gets caught looking at a Playboy, that he is just reading the articles when I try explaining to her that it is his interviews with celebrities that have me hooked.  My explanation never stops her from squishing up her face like she just ate a lemon and spitting out the words disgusting, gross, or ewww, in my direction.  My dogs just like being with me, no matter what I am doing.

 

I want to keep traveling with my dogs, but Vern has got to learn to speed up his bowels so we can get places faster.  Fudge has that down pat and the only complaint I have about her is that as I stoop to pick it up, she usually back kicks whatever she is back kicking all over me.  She also likes to go immediately on a walk, which means I carry it for the entire walk.  I always feel like that is her way of showing me who is in charge. I don’t know if it is the repetition of repeating the same phrase over and over that finally gets Vern to do the deed or what is going on in his brain as my pleas become more urgent and louder, but I get a sense that finally at some point Vern says to himself,  “Is this what go poopy means?” as he finally squats. At that point, each and every time, I feel exactly like Helen Keller’s teacher must have felt when Helen finally figured out what w-a-t-e-r meant at the water pump.  Sometimes, getting Vern to poop feels like my full time job. I think when people ask me what I do for a living, I am going to start saying I am a motivational speaker.  I can see the conversation now……do you work?....yes, I am a motivational speaker or some say a motivational yeller…what do you motivate people to do?....not people exactly, just one dog.  I motivate him to go number two before I kill him.

 

I don’t know why I care so much if my dogs go to the bathroom, but I feel such relief if I am going somewhere knowing that they are not home waiting for me at the door.  When Vern finally decides to go and I can always tell when the glorious event is truly going to happen by the way he pulls me for 2 miles like a sled dog in the Iditorad Race just to find the perfect spot, I almost feel euphoric.  Normally, I do not like to discuss anything to do with anything that comes out of someone’s body and if my mom even hints that she is about to begin some kind of gross conversation, I am likely to run in the opposite direction or pretend the phone has a bad connection and disconnect.  I wouldn’t watch The Howdy Doody Show even if you paid me, because the title makes me think someone is a little too excited about a bodily function.  Why all this squeamishness doesn’t apply to my dogs, I do not know?  It isn’t out of the ordinary for John and me to discuss our dog’s poop very matter-of-factly…yes, he did go….it looked much better today….but ask me if I had a Number 2 pencil and I might gag and tell you it is none of your business, before I realize we are talking about pencils.  You would think my dogs were depositing something valuable on the ground by the way I happily react when they finally go.

 

This week we have added another step to the process we call “Operation Vern Just Go Potty!” It seems the snow we are having is further slowing this process down because Vern has to go outside and lick the snow for about 10 minutes before he even ventures off the porch toward our yard.  There we are at some kind of weird standstill each morning…..Vern licking…me yelling for him to move off the porch…Vern licking… me begging him to stop licking…Vern looking around like he hears a voice, but can’t place it….and me finally throwing my arms up in the air and threatening to rehome Mr. Licker.  Seriously, I am starting to wonder if I need to have his IQ tested after watching him lick a porch rail for twenty minutes.

Here is Vern during a photo shoot. He decided he needed a break to lick some snow.

 

With this new step added, it seems obvious to me that, if I am in a terrible hurry, winter is not the time to travel with my dogs.  Taking everything into consideration, I told my friend, Rose, that she just edged Fudge and Vern out as my best travel companion and that had a lot to do with the fact that I don’t have to walk her around when we stop and say, “Go potty, Rose, go potty!”   She didn’t seem all that honored about her victory, but she did say the day I have to walk her around at a rest stop should be the day we stop traveling altogether.  I think she makes a good point.

Our First Winter in Michigan!

[Linda, Charlie Brown and Beau]

This sounds too funny Laurie.  I am so glad both of mine go on command! HeeHee

[F, Calla & Luca]

I needed a good blog since I am feeling cabin fever after one cold, windy day. It doesn't take much. I loved the # 2 pencil. How do you think of these things? The dogs look great.

[Karen, Jasper and Jackdoodle]

Vern and Jackdoodle must be related somehow; as I read this blog, I was transported back to this morning's walk, once again standing outside in the -20 degree windchills begging, pleading and praying for a large shaggy blonde dog to Go Poop Already! I only wish I had your sense of humor about it. I've actually been looking into how much it would cost to rent an RV and driver so that Jack and I could winter somewhere warm and dry, where I could at least soak up a little vitamin D while waiting for the Great Anal Retentive One to pick a spot, any spot, just GO! 

[Christine & Shelby]

Love this blog... I can almost see you at the rest stop pacing around :). Tell Fudge and Vern that Shelby and I say Howdy!