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And in the realm of “who does this happen to???”

2 Oct

I’ve thought twice about sharing this, but then I thought “sharing is caring” – also, I’m enjoying traumatizing teens with this story and I’ve run out of teens.

Be warned – there’s poop talk ahead.  Terrible, traumatizing poop talk. Stop now if you’re eating. Continue if poop talk doesn’t phase you.

how can one tiny dog cause so much drama?

how can one tiny dog cause so much drama?

This is how I told the boys…

“I have to go get Tiny from the vet.”

Boy – “Uh oh, what did she do?”

Me – “It wasn’t so much what she did, but what she didn’t do.”

Boy – “What didn’t she do?”

Me – “Poop.”

Okay, it wasn’t even so much that she didn’t poop.  It’s that she tried to poop, hit this point, then could poop no more.

Because this is my life, I stood out under the eaves of the house as it rained, watching this little dog scurry all over underneath the bushes, having to poop, not wanting to be in the rain, not wanting to poop, dragging her sorry butt through the leaves and pine needles under the bushes…but then she seemed to perk up and walk normally to me.  Great!  She pooped!  We can now go on with our lives.

Except, and once again, because this is my life, I lift the little dog and do a backside check, to make sure she pooped cleanly.  It appeared she hadn’t.

sigh.

I wasn’t in the mood to bathe the little dog, but what can you do except throw her in the tub?

As I was hosing her off, the full horrible truth came to light.  It wasn’t that she had a bit of poop stuck in her fur.

Imagine it – me, in a bathroom, a lovely clean bathroom with its white ruffley shower curtain, the pale yellow and aqua blue towels – and this wet, leafy little dog with poop hanging out her bum.

In my head I was screaming “OMG, what do I do?  There is NOTHING in my life that has prepared me for this moment!  Why do these things happen when I have no one to call! Who do you even call in this moment?”

After a couple of deep breaths, I pulled out my phone and went to the Yelp app.  There’s a vet nearby that someone mentioned was good – they had five star ratings.  Good enough.

Then there was the phone call..

“Hello, Vet’s office!”

“Yeah, um, we just moved here, and I have a problem with my tiny dog.”

“Oh no, how can we help?”

“Well, she tried to poop and couldn’t finish and now its stuck, and I thought it was just on her fur, so I tried washing her, so now she’s wet and poopy…”

They’ve heard it all, right?

The nice girl on the phone told me the vet was on another call, but they’d call me right back, giving me enough time to at least blow dry the now shivering tiny dog, and pluck some of the leaves out of her fur.  The vet office called back and said we could come right in if we got there in the next ten minutes.

Great!  I now have exactly 35 minutes until Maura arrives on the bus.  I can do this!

I wrapped tiny dog in a towel, stick her in a crate (not a dog crate…no…that would make sense – her little tiny dog crate was up too high in the garage to get, but there was a milk crate.  Yeah, that’ll do.)

I go out, put tiny dog in crate in the car, buckle myself in, turn on car, turn on wipers…and watch as one wiper blade goes flinging off its hinge.

Because this is MY life.

And it wasn’t the little rubber part.  No.  The whole dang arm came off that sucker.

I stood in the rain, trying to fix it, realizing I’m too short to reach it properly, as SUV’s aren’t really designed for short women, considering whether or not to burst into tears over the fact that I have this tiny dog who can’t poop, a busted windshield wiper, my window of opportunity narrowing and no one to call in this particular predicament. I  decided not to because, you know, me sobbing and cursing in the driveway wouldn’t make the best impression on my new neighbors.

Instead, I persevered, rigged the wiper to work, and got to the vet, where I know I made an impression.  Sadly, that impression was of a hysterical, slightly wet and frumpy woman who never grooms her poor tiny dog.  I explained how the dog was wet because I tried to bathe her, leafy because she went under the bushes, she’s usually not this much of a mess, I swear…and oh, I have to dump and run because I have to get my daughter off the bus, can I come back for the puppy after she gets her enema?

Yes, I made quite the impression.

Now, the tiny dog is just fine, being her normal tiny self again.  I’m the one with lingering trauma.  Which I have to share.  The kids were so thrilled.  I’m sure you are too now.

But really, there is nothing that prepares you for a moment like I experienced in that bathroom at 11:20 this am.

Nothing.

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14 Responses to “And in the realm of “who does this happen to???””

  1. Susan Holmes October 2, 2013 at 10:12 pm #

    Did you ever hear the story about the billy goat that got constipated…and Conley told me that I had to give it an enema? That goat avoided me for weeks….I told the pharmacist where I bought the enema that my veterinarian brother was enjoying this way too much! He chuckled when he told me. We all lived.

    • phoebz4 October 2, 2013 at 11:09 pm #

      I have NOT heard this goat story! Poor goat. I just got to hand off Tiny to the vet and run for it.

  2. Lori-Anne October 3, 2013 at 12:52 am #

    I recently had to clean my toddler’s bottom this week that had a poop stuck to it as well. Does that count? I’m sorry it was traumatizing to you though, but so happy you got to share this with your teens as well as us. (sorry, I did snort a bit when I read about your windshield wiper. That’s happened to me too. I didn’t giggle then though.)

  3. Beth October 3, 2013 at 6:17 am #

    Ohhhh – been there, done that! Only in my case it was one of the cats who thought a little girl’s hair yarn-tie would make a good snack. Well – it made it through the cat’s system, only to get stuck coming out the rear when going poop. Now, imagine holding said cat under one arm on the counter, lifting up the tail, and grabbing the poopy yarn (with a paper towel) and pulling the nasty thing the rest of the way out of the butt. Needless to say – neither of us enjoyed that experience! AND, it was a long-haired cat – so then I still had to wash the extra poop off of their “pants”.

    • phoebz4 October 3, 2013 at 10:14 am #

      we had a cat who kept eating tinsel off the Christmas tree. Cats can’t digest tinsel. We never put tinsel on a Christmas tree again.

      • Beth October 3, 2013 at 10:22 am #

        Yep…I’ve had cats my entire life and I’ve had them eat stuff they aren’t supposed to…and he didn’t eat an entire yarn tie…but enough of it to cause the poopy yarn mess. We haven’t has tinsel on a tree in decades!

  4. franhunne4u October 3, 2013 at 9:36 am #

    A situation for those latex gloves.
    Ladies – you are way too squeamish about something as natural as poop. Nobody asks you to take a nose- or mouthful of that. But traumatising?

    When having to wipe it off of a dog or a cat – or a toddler or an elderly or sick relative .. really … That is just something that is done. When your children are wearing nappies you do it, so what is the big deal?
    You can wash your hands afterwards – and nobody says you have got to LIKE poop. But traumatising? Poop? Your therapist must be a rich person …

    The car wiper was funny – it happened to me, too – I had to get a new motor for that wiper!

    • phoebz4 October 3, 2013 at 10:13 am #

      I don’t know if you understand the full picture – there I am with a 4.5 lb (or just over 2 kilos) tiny furry creature, who has poop half in/half out of her body. And it was stuck. It wasn’t just poop on fur, it was poop IN her still. This is my older daughter’s precious puppy, and I didn’t want to break the puppy, accidentally pull the tiny colon out with it (yes, I know that’s technically not possible.) I’m not trained in these procedures. did the best I could, and failed. I am not trained to manipulate poo out of a tiny little dog. There’s a reason why I didn’t go into the nursing profession!

      So yes, it was a bit traumatizing – and I never said was being completely rational about it all 🙂 Give me a kid with a bloody gash any day! (Well, maybe not any day. I’d rather not deal with another bloody gash.) We all have our kryptonite – this was it.

      And trust me when I say, I deal with a LOT of poop. A LOT. Oh, I could go on and on about poop. Remember, Maura just got potty trained this year and I still have to help her out with things.

      • franhunne4u October 3, 2013 at 10:29 am #

        When you decided to have kids, you entered nursing profession, I’m sorry to be the one to break the news. 😉
        And that is why I was a little astonished to read this as “traumatising experience”.
        A traumatic event involves a single experience, or an enduring or repeating event or events, that completely overwhelm the individual’s ability to cope or integrate the ideas and emotions involved with that experience.
        Completely overwhelmed? You checked in to a new vet, you treated the pup the best you knew, you even found a way to get the dog to the vet without a dog crate …
        I am a little at a loss when you use a strong word like trauma here.

      • phoebz4 October 3, 2013 at 4:37 pm #

        “I am a little at a loss when you use a strong word like trauma here.”

        because I’m a writer with a flair for the dramatic who doesn’t usually overanalyze her word choices?

      • franhunne4u October 4, 2013 at 12:08 am #

        Maybe I am more used to british understatement 😉

  5. Beth October 3, 2013 at 5:08 pm #

    You go, Phoebe…after all, this is YOUR blog! If so done doesn’t like your choice of words or terminology, let them go find another blogger to bother!

  6. Beth October 3, 2013 at 5:09 pm #

    DANG auto correct…that was supposed to be “someone”!

    • phoebz4 October 3, 2013 at 7:31 pm #

      Thanks – I don’t think there was any harm meant, just thinks lost in translation. English is a funny language!

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