Warning: the first few paragraphs are rated TS for the turd sensitive:
Dearly Beloved and Miss Piggy still haven’t kissed and made up. Well, the kissing part definitely isn’t going to happen because The Issue— Miss Piggy’s taste for tootsie turds–has not abated. We must stand outside with her during her “last call” before bedtime to watch that it’s all output and no intake. Otherwise, we run the risk of having her hide something disgusting in her cheeks again to bring inside for a late-night snack.
DB has now refers to her as “The Little S— Eater.” Miss Piggy is unrepentant. That dog has no shame.
I’m not talking a mere Daily Double; it’s closer to Daily Double Digits. When we take her on her twice-daily walks, we carry bagS. There aren’t wimpy dumps. A Great Dane would be proud of our fat little cocker’s piles.
The pricey, prescription-only, high-fiber, weight-control dog food we feed her (Hill’s WD) is the gift that keeps on giving. DB says he’s not sure how to count her movements. If she poops, eats it, then poops again, does that count as one or two? At what point does it become poop neutral in the count? We need to be accurate if we’re going for a mention in Ripley’s.
I now return you to our regular G-rated programming:
This week it’s springtime, but only a week or so ago we had snow in NC. One day it snowed for almost 24 hours, but since the temperature hovered at 34 degrees, there was no accumulation when I went out with her at bedtime.
The next morning I looked out the sunroom window and our yard was still bare. When I stood at the kitchen sink filling the teakettle a few minutes later, though, I saw a covering of snow on our neighbor’s back yard.
The yard on our left glistened with a thin layer of white, too. Weird.
I looked out the sunroom window again. Nothing except muddy green, but beyond the big magnolia tree, our back neighbors’ property glistened through the chain-link fence. Take a look at the picture I took from the sunroom window. That’s not a pond back there, that’s their yard. Their snow-covered yard.
You know what they say about the grass being greener on the other side of the fence? That’s us! WE are the sunny side of the fence!
Oh, the headiness of realizing our house is the center of the universe!
Reality check: Maybe it’s because dog poop is a heat conductor.
(sigh) Hand me that snow shovel.
It won’t be snow I’m shoveling.