Why Is It? My First Ever Poop Blog!!!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

My mom and I usually talk first thing in the morning each day.  We all know that the older we get the fewer inhibitions we have and sometimes my mom will start talking about things I do not want to talk about before I eat my daily oatmeal.  Quite frankly, in my book, there is no good time to talk about some of the stuff she brings up. If she so much as utters the words bowel movement, my heart starts to race, my stomach starts churning, and I start trying to picture myself with a different mom or on a beach somewhere with no phones.  I have asked her to find a friend that likes these kinds of discussions or to share it with a sister who does not mind, but she still tries to keep me up to date.

 

I have volunteered for many years at an Assisted Living Facility and I should know by now that the elderly like to talk about poop. Once, I asked a resident in Craft class how she was feeling and without batting an eye she responded, “I haven’t had a bowel movement in four days.” Try thinking of a witty comeback to that comment.  I mean, “I hope everything works out for you in the end,” just doesn’t seem appropriate.  Truthfully, I do not want to hear about your elimination habits, discuss any gross details, or hear what foods move things along. Just let me put on my rose colored glasses and tell myself that making poo poo is just an expression and not an actuality. It has gotten so bad, that I can’t even check out library books because I am afraid people read them on the toilet, so yes, I have issues.

 

Which brings me to my point.  Why is it that I go nuts when someone mentions poop, but I can pick up Fudge and Vern’s poop in tiny little bags without a care in the world. I actually look for cute little poop bags at the store. I have picked up their poop with Halloween poop bags, green and red bags at Christmas, pink bags, yellow bags, and I think, my personal favorite, skull and crossbones poop bags. Once, in a pinch, all I had was a baggie and it did not bother me one bit. I have no problem examining their poop for color or consistency and have actually commented, “Vern, what did you eat that was blue?”

 

Just yesterday, Vern took a nosedive into a pile of horse poop and I did not pass out.  I saw him roll, but did not see the results of the roll until we were much farther into our walk and happened to glance down and see what I mistook for a large leaf hanging off his face. Luckily, it was my husband, thinking it was a leaf too, that tried to remove it from Vern’s face.  Nothing bothers my husband and he just said, “let’s keep walking,” but I explained that when your dog is wearing another animal’s feces on his face, I think the walk is over. We went back to the car, wiped him with wipes I keep in the car for these fun emergencies, and brought him home and gave him a bath. 

 

Something is not right.  I mean, gross is gross. Why is it that I can stomach almost anything when it comes to Fudge and Vern, but I can’t when it involves the people I love?  If and when my husband and I get really old and he turns to me one night and says, “I think I need some help in the bathroom,” I am going to feel badly, but will have no problem saying,  “ I think it is time we went our separate ways.” Who knows, he may be saving that as his ace in the hole for when I really get on his nerves. Meanwhile, the irony is not lost on my mother. When she visits she loves to point out the fact that there seems to be a double standard where Fudge and Vern are concerned.  She is always saying she can hear me tell Fudge and Vern that they are the best poopers in the whole world, but if she so much as utters one letter in the word poop, I threaten to take her to the nearest hotel where she can discuss on end what prunes are good for with the hotel clerk.  After I said, “what’s your point, woman?” she said, “I think it is a load of crap!” and all I could think was, “here we go again!!

[Doris, Knox & Flash]

By the way, coffee helps....

[Sherri, Sophie, Winston, & Kitty]

Laurie, I think it's because the doodles bring out our maternal instincts, which means we are naturally geared toward taking care of doodles' "business" in whatever way necessary, just like I'm sure you did with your daughters when they were little. With your mom however, our brains are engineered to think of the relationship the other way around, so naturally you don't want to hear about it.

 

I have been up to my elbows in doodle diarrhea this week-end and today too. Piles of it all over the living room on Saturday (including my new carpet) and this morning woke up to a whining Sophie Bear in her crate (I had put in her there worried that it would happen again and I was right). In my sleepy fog I didn't realize what was going on until Winston jumped up to go investigate, then came over to get me. That's when I smelled it. The only thought that crossed my mind when I picked up a wimpering Sophie Bear covered in excrement and carried her to the tub, was "my poor baby, she must be so uncomfortable". I cleaned her, and myself, off and took her out for rounds two, three, four,... then dutifully cleaned up the crate with a bleach solution, washed the bedding, took a shower, called in sick, and plunked into bed next to her for the next four hours. I don't have kids but I'm pretty sure that's the definition of maternal instanct.

[Becka]

"when your dog is wearing another animal’s feces on his face, I think the walk is over"

I agree, Laurie!

[Sue, Lola, Pongo & Hubby]

HAHAHA!!! Hilarious!!! I don't have this problem, probably because I grew up in a household where this was a regular, daily discussion. My mom and I have discussed poop for hours....seriously. My grandma is of course the worst...and god forbid she runs out of raisin bran, her day is ruined. I think doodle poop is okay because doodles are beautiful and consequently, their poop is cute as well. DH and I chat about Lola's poop like we're discussing what to have for dinner. I'm not saying this is a good thing, because we discuss these things in public at times, and I've caught people giving us some weird looks. Oh well, everyone poops!

[Joanne ~ Spud*]

What a poopy blog. I would also like to mention, I am the Proud recipient of Laurie's fine taste in poop bags! Walking down the street, I am proud to pull out a Playboy Bunny bag of glossy silver and fill it full of glossy poop. I rock with fashion when I clean up poop as I do the potty cheer. PS Laurie, oatmeal is good for your BMs too

[PJ and Zach]

This is a hilarious read!  Thanks.

[Bonnie and Kona]

Oh Laurie you did it again! Thank you for always, always making me laugh out loud. I don't think we do that often enough in life and you have added to the merriment of this world. Thank you!

[Carol and Banjo]

Laughing out Loud....Multiple times Laurie!!!!    My mom used to love to keep me posted as well,  I miss her dearly but prefer to forget about "those" conversations!   Daily, I'm amazed at my lack of "grossed-outness"  when it comes to Banjo's elimination habits.    I almost feel a sense of pride when things "come out well".   Sorta like....I must be a good Doodle Mom to have these results!  LOL!    Thank goodness we have this special place to share!

[Amy, Cubbie & Ollie]

Laurie, i understand where you are coming from.  If I so much as even think that a person is going to throw up I will do everything I can to get away from that person as quickly as possible.  I don't want to hear it, see it, or heaven forbid, smell it.  But when it comes to doodle puke, I frequently try to pick up a gagging Cubbie and get him to the nearest hard surface before he lets loose.  I don't enjoy cleaning up doodle vomit, but it doesn't really gross me out all that much.

[F, Calla & Luca]

I love your mom!!! You're OK too. Anyway, I think DK is preparing all of us to talk about poop endlessly. It seems people are quite obssed with dog poop from all the discussions. I just hope to discover it all before the lawn tractor rolls in it--happens all the time, or I step in it--miraculously almost never happens. But your constipation lady reminded me of an old joke.

Son calling other, "Mom how are you?"

Mom, "OK but I have eaten in a month."

Son, Why not?"

Mother, "I didn't want to have my mouth full when you called."