spaazliciousWednesday, December 29, 2004
Ew, deux. [subtitled: what the hell..? Oh G-d! Oh no! NO, IT ISN'T!!! Yes, it is!]
About to tuck in bed here at Chez Spaazlicious and what do I find?
I'm on the phone with my mom when I spot it, she hears me asking Tahoe (who is laying on the bed) what it is, realises that I am distracted and hurriedly signs off.
Like all seasoned dog moms I sniff before touching.
Yes, it's poo.
Poo, feces, sh*t, whatever--it's a foot and a half above my pillow, ON THE WALL in a three point fleck pattern with a three foot radius. And something stringy in it.
Tahoe sees what I am looking at and gets excited because he thinks it's a giant fly. Belu senses all the excitement and runs in and leaps on the bed, thinking it's a giant fly.
They love chazing flies.
Interesting aside here: in Spanish, there's an idiom, cazar moscas, which means to do something useless, waste time, engage in a completely fruitless past time, but literally it means to chase or hunt flies. Which is Tahoe's favourite thing in the world, and thus has become Belu's, in her desire to thwart his happiness at every turn. Anyway, I think it's very fitting for the role of these domesticated wolf descendants in a modern American household.
So the dogs take one sniff of the giant fly (I am restraining them from leaping on it with mouths open, I don't want smearing) and hightail it out of the room, each recognising it for what it is, neither wanting to be recognised as the "bad dog" culprit.
And I am stunned that there is fecal matter on my walls, stunned by my reaction to it (I thought: could I have done this, could Nick have done this? Because to admit that one of my "furchildren" [I hate that phrase in its so-coy embrace of the freakishness of loving an animal like a child] could have done this is to realise that it may happen again. Somewhere less easily spotted next time. Somewhere like my pillow.) but I am not so stunned that I forget to take piccies of it in order to blog my shame, to hide that I have no knitting content to post but the turtleneck of a sweater for a teacup poodle, before I clean my walls with bleach and water.
The question remains: how the hell did it get there?
And what kind of search strings will now hit this site?
|
I'm on the phone with my mom when I spot it, she hears me asking Tahoe (who is laying on the bed) what it is, realises that I am distracted and hurriedly signs off.
Like all seasoned dog moms I sniff before touching.
Yes, it's poo.
Poo, feces, sh*t, whatever--it's a foot and a half above my pillow, ON THE WALL in a three point fleck pattern with a three foot radius. And something stringy in it.
Tahoe sees what I am looking at and gets excited because he thinks it's a giant fly. Belu senses all the excitement and runs in and leaps on the bed, thinking it's a giant fly.
They love chazing flies.
Interesting aside here: in Spanish, there's an idiom, cazar moscas, which means to do something useless, waste time, engage in a completely fruitless past time, but literally it means to chase or hunt flies. Which is Tahoe's favourite thing in the world, and thus has become Belu's, in her desire to thwart his happiness at every turn. Anyway, I think it's very fitting for the role of these domesticated wolf descendants in a modern American household.
So the dogs take one sniff of the giant fly (I am restraining them from leaping on it with mouths open, I don't want smearing) and hightail it out of the room, each recognising it for what it is, neither wanting to be recognised as the "bad dog" culprit.
And I am stunned that there is fecal matter on my walls, stunned by my reaction to it (I thought: could I have done this, could Nick have done this? Because to admit that one of my "furchildren" [I hate that phrase in its so-coy embrace of the freakishness of loving an animal like a child] could have done this is to realise that it may happen again. Somewhere less easily spotted next time. Somewhere like my pillow.) but I am not so stunned that I forget to take piccies of it in order to blog my shame, to hide that I have no knitting content to post but the turtleneck of a sweater for a teacup poodle, before I clean my walls with bleach and water.
The question remains: how the hell did it get there?
And what kind of search strings will now hit this site?
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