Saturday, June 07, 2008
Millie Is In The Dog House
This is Millie, she is our Miniature Poodle we have had for about a year now. She is a sweet girl, so good with the kids and she just sits next to me all day long or follows me around with whatever I am doing. She does not shed, poodles don't shed, did you know that? It's a great feature when you live in Arizona.Anyhoo, I am thinking about giving her away to a home, one that firmly believes in leaving dogs outside all day and that dogs should only be interacted with when they are fed and watered.
Why the cruelty? Why? Well, let me tell you.
A few days ago we were at my mother's, after leaving her house Millie started to check out the rocks out front and found some poop. I am guessing it was deposited there sometime after the extinction of the wooly mammoth, but before the end of the college basketball season. In a word, it was old. That's my word for it, Millie's word for it appears to be, "tasty!". She ate it and got a piece before we could get her away from it. She guzzled it with the type of glee you only see in a child who has gotten into the candy jar and knows mom is coming to get them any second now.
I had a f.i.t.! My dog is not a poop eater! Not my precious French Poodle! I put her in the car and after a few minutes of cussing at her for her disgusting lapse in judgment, she settled into my lap for the ride home ("NO, NO you are NOT going to lick my face, young lady! Ugh, sit down!!") About 5 minutes into the ride, she must have realized she was, indeed, not a poop eater and threw it up all over my pants and my leg (the left one to be exact).
I could attempt to explain the smell to you. I could try to tell you that cow manure smells positively angelic, when compared to regurgitated, petrified, poop, I could, but I don't want you to gag, the way I did, after she hacked it up on my leg!
I nearly wrecked the car, frantically grabbing for anything to get the now rehydrated poop off me and make the smell go away. All the while, picking Millie up by the scruff of the neck and sending her, hastily, to the back of the van.
So, I ask you, “really, is sending her on her way with a family who will ignore her and let her get fleas such a bad idea afterall?”
Sigh, good thing she cannot read. She is contentedly licking my feet as I write this, I guess she stays.
For now.
