Weekends. They are a time to live the good life by enjoying exploits at the Home Depot and making tough decisions like what toppings to get on the pizza.
They are not a time for fecal follies.
Once my kids left the explosive diarrhea and sodden diaper phase of their life, I thought I had most toilet traumas behind me. While it’s true that I cannot go a day without flushing the evacuations of my daughter’s bladder, my days are otherwise free of bodily fluids.
I was getting too soft with this cozy situation and my daughter could sense my weakness, sniffing it out with the precision of a lioness hunting a gazelle.
She went in for the kill this weekend.
I was heading into the living room when I saw the entryway was blocked off by two boxes, with my daughter on one side and the dogs on the other.
Me: So… what’s with the boxes?
The Girl (pointing to the couch): My poop fell out and Sparkles ate it.
Me: Wait. You pooped on the couch? And Sparkles are your poop?
The Girl (laughing hysterically): No! I didn’t poop on the couch!
Me: Sparkles pooped on the couch? And ate it?
Girl: No! Poop fell out of my butt, I stepped on it, and when I wiped it off, Sparkles ate it.
Me: On the couch?
Girl: Mooooom! You’re not listening.
Right. Because it’s so very clear what has happened.
Girl: I was pooping, IN THE BATHROOM…
She throws an exaggerated eye roll in my direction, and continues.
Girl: … and I didn’t want anyone to see me. So, I waddled over to shut the door and my poop fell out.
Me: You were walking around with your pants down? And poop in your butt? Why?
Girl: I didn’t want anyone to see me!
Of course. Makes sense.
Girl: The poop fell out, and I stepped in it.
I realize as she’s talking, that her feet are resting on the coffee table. The same feet that have stepped in her own waste. I am willing to bet her tootsies were not washed after she pranced in the poop. Therefore, my coffee table is now enveloped by fecal matter.
Girl: I wiped the poop off my foot…
Wiped? Did she wash her hands afterward? Probably not. Ugh. What has she touched?
Girl: … and then Sparkles ran in…. AND ATE IT! IT’S SO GROSS! UGH! She can’t be here if she’s eating poop!
I tuned out her continuing narrative, and began a mental triage of the situation.
I need to clean her feet, the coffee table, the path from the bathroom to the table, every surface everywhere. Oh, hell. I’m going to burn the house down and start over. I’ll never be rid of the poop.
Half a tub of clorox wipes later, I was no longer crawling out of my skin, trying to escape an all-encompassing feculence. I also gave Sparkles more than a few snacks to clean the crap out of her teeth. I really couldn’t even look at her until I had. It was too disgusting.
Moral of the story my friends: Never poop without shutting the door first, and if you have to get up, make sure there is no poop in your butt or a dog will swoop in and eat it.
7 responses to “My Dog Ate My Daughter’s Poop”
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Lol oh poor you!! What is it with dogs and eating things they shouldn’t?! Mine used to eat cat vomit. Shudder xx
And that’s why they are so cute. It’s the only way we’d forgive them!
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Gahhh! I’m totally traumatized now. My imagination is simply too vivid and I managed to relive the entire experience even though I wasn’t there!!
Burn the house down and start over sounds like a good plan to me too! 😉
Holy crap! I’m dying! That is freaking hilarious and just plain freaking me out all at once – Thank God for Clorox Wipes!
I almost died on this one! I love your daughter’s logic. Good Talk. HAHAHA