My dog needs to go to the vet, I think. He has a poop problem. For two out of the past 5 days, he's had, um, irritable bowels. Now this is a dog who never, and I mean NEVER, poops in the house. He once pooped by the back door after we had been gone a little too long and the expression of embarassment on his face was priceless. He knew he'd done wrong.
A few weeks ago, on a Sunday morning, I woke up, started my coffee, and sat down in the living room. I smelled a faint odor of dog poo. I searched the entire downstairs, found nothing, and thought it was all in my head. But it kept bugging me, so I did a little more investigating, and found nothing! An hour or so later, Dr Pop woke up and I mentioned the smell to him. He looked around and couldn't find anything. That is, he couldn't find anything until he went upstairs to get something out of the office. And there it was. A trail of poop all the way down the upstairs hallway.
So I was in shock, but I cleaned it up. Chalked it up to the idea that the dog needed to go to the bathroom and couldn't manage to wake either of us up to let him out. It was a first.
Fast forward a bit to this past Sunday morning. I slept in. Dr Pop gets up to let the dog out because he's being loud and panting and wanting out. I hear a sort of strangled noise out in the living room, but fall back asleep for a minute or two... And then I hear, "Bubba! Bad Dog!"
He walks into the room and said, "There is a trail of shit all the way up the stairs and into Boy Pop's room!" Sure enough. There it was. We think he was in Boy Pop's room, checking on him while he slept, and had to go. But couldn't make it.
So I cleaned it up. I swear, I'm running out of carpet cleaner!
Yesterday, I had a hair appointment. I've been re-blonded. I get home at around 7:30, go to change clothes, and notice that the bedroom door is closed. Dr Pop had decided to lock up one of our terrorizing cats. I opened the door. And was greeted by the worst smell ever.
And I cleaned it up. Along with the cat vomit that the poop caused. And I scrubbed the carpet and opened a window.
But the smell wouldn't go away.
And then I noticed the poop on my comforter. Large Golden Retriever Poop. On. My. Comforter.
And that's when I finally gagged.
I'm pooped with the poop.
Oh, and as I type this, Dr Pop is sleeping the sound sleep only someone who's been given multiple sedatives could be. Bless his heart. He had gum surgery this morning. Luckily, he has a doc who does it with a laser instead of a scalpel.