Well, after all the excitement of the recent presidential election, I suppose it's time to get back to our real lives. A little bit of a let-down I guess... kind of like the day after Christmas, when your husband goes back to work, the kids are playing with friends, and you're left to clean up the aftermath. Cleaning up the aftermath is my life.
There is one chore I loathe far beyond any other. Well, almost any other. Anything to do with a toilet is undoubtedly the worst chore on earth. But picking up the Poo Garden is definitely next in line. Heaven knows how much I love my 2 dogs. I love them so much that I will stoop to the lowest of low and pick up their poo. That's a lot of love.
My relationship with poo has been a long one. When I gave birth to my first child 22 years ago, they had to show me how to put a diaper on him before they would let me take him home. And those were the only instructions he came with. But we muddled our way through, and actually, dealing with baby poo really wasn't so bad. Except for the occasional Automatic Weapon Simulated Poo - when it came with so much force the diaper was blown right off his butt and poo flew in all directions - baby poo was really no big deal. It was a good initiation for what was to come.
The toddler/elementary school years on the other hand, brought every type of human-produced-goo to a new level. These were the years I had to not only deal with endless toilet-training "accidents", but you are forced to become familiar with gooey green noses and throw-up as well. And do not be mistaken - "throw-up" is not the same thing as a baby's "spit-up". "Spit-up" is usually no big deal, unless you have been blessed with a Hose Monster. No, when "spit-up" morphs into "throw-up" it's a force not to be reckoned with. Throw-up has a mind of it's own. It takes over the mind and body of your child. And you are the one that gets to clean it all up, even when it's imbedded into every carpet fiber or into every tiny hole in your CD player speakers. Because even though you have put a bowl or bag right next to the child, they will never - NEVER - make it in. And don't even dream about them making it to the toilet because that's just not an option for any child. Even one of my very own angelic, innocent boys, who's name shall not be mentioned (Davy), had the spectacular talent of hitting everything on all four walls surrounding him, not to mention himself and the entire floor. We have no idea how he was able to achieve this. We kept waiting for his head to spin around. But anyway, I digress. Just know that my relationship with poo and all bodily functions goes way back.
Here's the ironic part. Now that all my boys have thankfully grown out of the tumultuous Bodily Fluid Stage, I willingly adopted two dogs that produce things I have to pick up. And how they can produce so much of it I do not know. And I adopted them of my own free will and choice. Knowing I would once again be forced to work with poo. Doggone those dogs! Why do I have to love them soooooooooo much! AAARGH!
I am fortunate in one sense. They are not huge dogs. That helps a bit. Of course, they are not tiny dogs either. My friend's chihuahua poos the size of a peanut. A PEANUT! I don't think I could even find that in the grass. I guess my dogs are somewhere in the middle. But mid-range poo or not, the Poo Garden is a constant source of yuck and frustration for me. My husband lets the grass grow too long and then it's like playing a game of "Operation" with the scooper. You may find the poo - after much looking - but unless you pick it up ever so gingerly with the scooper....... let's just say that it's important to try to keep everything intact.
My dogs are American Eskimo Dogs. Even though it says nothing about this in any of the 8 American Eskimo Dog books I own, they have a very special talent. Not unlike my son's talent of hitting everything in sight with throw-up. My American Eskimo Dogs can poo and walk at the same time. That's right, they never stay in one location. They must walk. And poo. At the same time. This makes them look like huge, furry white hermit crabs as they are hunched over, walking and dropping. Walking and dropping. Walking and dropping. Apparently, having to poo several times a day is yet another talent I was unaware of. It makes finding and scooping up the Poo Garden not only like the afore-mentioned game of "Operation", but it is not unlike a game of Hide and Seek as well. Because oh, you may have found one piece of poo, but that only means there are at least 3 more hidden under the blades of grass. And frequently, you can't find them because you are stepping on them. It makes for a very LONG game of Hide and Seek/Operation in the Poo Garden. And it quadruples the amount of times I have to scoop and drop into my poo bag. Scoop and drop. Scoop and drop. Endlessly scooping...... and dropping. Which means by the time I'm done 45 minutes later, my back is usually completely thrown out for the next 2 days. Meanwhile, both dogs sit on the sidelines and smile at me the entire time.
I am so proud of my dogs that they have such a special talent, but I'm thinking perhaps their talent could have been something more normal? Like shaking hands? It remains to be said though: if they drop it, you will scoop.