Distasteful, but perhaps humorous…

Rest easy, I smellchecked this before posting. 

Today I watched with curious disgust as  my tiny man-dog schooched his bottom across the (beautiful and clean) carpet in the office.  “Darnit, TyGurrr has worms!” I announced to no one who wanted to hear it.  I immediately called the vet’s office and after hearing my problem (or, rather, the dog’s problem), the sweet-sounding young woman asked are they tapeworms, or do they look like rice?  Hearing tapeworm and rice in the same sentence upset my stomach.  I told her I hadn’t actually seen a worm, but the schooching seemed to be a fairly good symptom.  She agreed and told me that I needed to bring in a stool sample (for the dog).  “Oh, and it has to be fresh” she added.   I went outside thinking, Oh Crap, literally.  Eureka!  I found what looked like a fresh deposit (it’s not as easy as it sounds when the poo is so small, it dries out quickly (at least in the warm, dry months).  I collected it into a ziploc baggie (yes, I was wearing surgical gloves), and immediately saw what looked to be a tapeworm.  But then, I have never seen a tapeworm.  This looked more like a small cotton cord which had made a journey through a tiny dog.  Well, I’ll take it in to be sure I thought to myself.

As is my custom, I made several errand type stops in town.   I got into my car preparing to make the last stop at the vet’s, and as I got into the car, I thought I heard something drop out of my driver’s side door as I closed it.  I opened the door and looked down, but saw nothing, so I started to back up.  I heard a strange POP!  And a very uneasy feeling crept over me.  I backed out ever so slowly and for a moment hesitated to look, and there it was, a flattened mess of fresh dog poo with a string running through it, all still in the baggie (sandwich size).   The baggie must have fallen out and under the car, and I had run over it.  I  suffered  temporary insanity as I left the scene of the crime.  I have never left poo anywhere, ever… until today.  What will someone think?

So the ordeal reminded me of my neighbor’s dog, a little guy named Surfer.  This was back in the 60’s when I was around 12.  A bunch of us kids were playing in the street after dinner, like we did every night in the summer, when an older boy noticed a string hanging out of Surfer’s bottom.  He called Surfer over and we all speculated about the string, which was about 3 inches long.  Suddenly, the boy grabbed the string and pulled, Surfer yiped and took off leaving the boy holding another 9 inches of “processed” string!  Until today, I had forgotten all about it, and when I rememberd it,  I just knew I had to share this story with Charley and Rachel, at a minimum.

Anything you do after reading this will be better than what happened to Surfer, right?

~ by Moongirl on June 7, 2007.