Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Andy and the butt monster

When I would take work papers to the downtown bank. I would sometimes bring my plucky sidekick Andy dog.  Everyone would stop us so they could fawn over him. A drawback to that being it made them also want to talk to me. 

Andy is a wonderfully behaved dog. But on this day I was practically dragging him on our walk. I turned to see what he was doing, he was up on his hind legs begging to be carried. Maybe he has something stuck in his paw? Andy was so upset when I stopped to take a look. There were no benches or chase lounges. 

In the middle of filthy 3rd avenue, I sat on the concrete, flipped my dog on this back to examine his paws. He hopped right in my lap, I looked carefully at all his paws and found nothing. I stretched his legs to make sure something wasn’t hurt. Everything was ok.
We struggled the rest of the way to the bank. I thought I should give him another once over. He was up on his hind legs, whining for me to pick him up again. I did, flipped him over and started to look at his paws for any clue as to why he wouldn’t walk.
He was tucking his tail between his legs, I figured it was because he was scared. I moved the tail to confirm this. That’s when I saw it. Poop.

His hair had become shaggy recently, and now a piece of matted poop clung to his behind. And he was frightened of it. I had a tissue and tried to get it out of the fur but it was impossibly stuck. Andy looked desperately up at me, he was convinced there was some vicious butt monster trying to terrorize him.
We took the bus home, I carried my forlorn little dog into the apartment. 
Rolled up my sleeves.
He slumped on the bathroom floor, looking up at me imploringly. 
I got the liquid soap.
Placed him in the tub, turned the water on warm. 
Then.…..with my bare hands…..used liquid soap to work a wad of poo off his backside.

It was awful, once it was over I couldn’t wash my own hands enough.  

Andy on the other hand was so happy. He ran around the apartment, biting his toys, getting affection. I shot bitter looks at my husband, “It should have been you!”
Andy looked up at me, I was his freaken hero. It was a horrific thing to need to do. But because of it my little shaggy dog thinks I am the greatest thing since sliced snausages.  He slept on me the rest of the evening, the ultimate sign of dog love for those who know.

I on the other hand, ate French fries with a fork that night.

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