OK, so maybe I just like to write about dog poop. But these opportunities keep presenting themselves, so I can't pass them up. Pictured above are my dogs, Lucy and Callaghan. They are practically the perfect pets.
One of them lost their mind yesterday and decided to poop in the house. Now, when I say "poop in the house," I don't mean one of them pooped on the back door rug because they were trying to get outside and I was ignoring them.
I don't mean one of them pooped in the middle of a room to make a statement about their displeasure with me having brought in two foster puppies from the SPCA, and now that those puppies are gone, here's a sign of things to come if I pull that stunt again.
I mean someone pooped in THE HOUSE. As best I can tell, this event began at the front door rug. Then I found something approximately half the size of a fun-sized Baby Ruth- minus the fun- in the dining room. Finally, I found poop nuggets at the back door.
All I can say is, thank goodness we don't feed our dogs table scraps. Clean-up was a breeze.
I have no way of proving who did this, although I must say that Callaghan looked pretty sheepish as I was muttering obscenities and cleaning it up.
It's a good thing these dogs are cute.