I’m amazed that my dog is speaking to me. Well, not speaking (I’m not crazy, I just fake it to get through the line at the bathroom faster) but wanting to hang with me in general. But then again, I’m barely speaking to him. Because he is an asshat. I get home and immediately take him outside. He bounds around for five seconds and I see him come back with a twig. Looks like a twig he pulled up with dirt and roots. But it’s not. It’s cat shit. My ignorant, annoying neighbors feed all the feral cats in the neighborhood, and said cats like to take a dump in our yard. The dog found it before I did. I went over to take it away.
Which clearly means that he HAD to have it, and ran off around the tree. And ate it. My dog ate feral cat shit. Thank god he’s on a dewormer/flea combo, so I was slightly less paranoid about that. But I got to grab the dog, NOT let him lick me as I carried him inside, dunk him under the sink while I washed off his poopy face and rinsed his mouth, then brush his teeth. Then I put him up because I’m so freaking annoyed that he ran when I told him to come, and I need to cool my jets.
And hour later, he pukes it up on the floor right next to my feet, so I get to clean him up and pick up the poop in squishy vomit form. I have touched poop too many times today.
I told him he was a dork.