A Doggy Story

This is one of P’s favorite stories that I tell. I’m not sure why I’m telling it to you. I guess I just want to record it. Warning: this story contains some yucky description of disgusting doggy behavior.

I used to live in Park Slope Brooklyn. I moved from down on 4th Avenue up to 8th Avenue one block from Prospect Park. It was after dark on that first night in my new place and I took the dogs for a walk and we went into the park. We went to the park daily when we lived down on 4th Ave and once we got inside the park I let them off leash like I normally did. For some reason this time they immediately jumped into some bushes. A woman who was walking her dog nearby saw them running in there and called out to me that I should get them out of there because some of the local homeless people used it as a bathroom. I ran in after my dogs and as soon as my head got inside the bushes I smelled trouble. The next thing I see is my white dog Danny rolling in what I’m assuming is excrement (and yup, I was right). He is diving on the ground and smearing it all over his neck. Then I turn and see my other dog Dylan trying to scarf up as much of the poop as possible before I pull her away. Now, I ask you dear reader – which is worse? Having a dog that has rolled in poop or a dog that has just eaten poop? I don’t know, it’s a toss up. Anyhoo, I start yelling my head off and get them back both on the leash, I’m not sure how because I can’t bear to touch either of them. I drag them home, pull them into my brand new, white postage stamp sized bathroom and start trying to bathe Danny. He smells so terrible and I have to struggle to keep him from alternately jumping out of the tub and/or shaking and spraying his wet, poop covered hair all over the walls. Dylan is whining and panting next to us because she thinks that she is going to be next and her breath is just terrible. I finally get him cleaned up but somehow it seems like I haven’t totally gotten the smell out. I think I dried him off with paper towels because I couldn’t bear to use any of mine and I hadn’t unpacked the doggie towels yet. Finally I’m done with Danny and we all go back into my bedroom and I sit on my bed – which is about the only thing that is set up in the whole place – my bed with my new rug under it that a friend gave me. I’m finally relaxing and the dogs are there looking at me because they’re nervous about the new apartment and they’re watching my every move and follow me everywhere. I think I might have taken a couple of deep breaths before I start hearing a funny sound and then realize that it is Dylan and she’s retching. Then before I know it, she is puking up her recent “meal” all over my brand new rug in my brand new apartment on my very first night in it. I don’t remember what I did next. I’m sure there was some shrieking involved. Ah, the pleasures of dog ownership. I remember them well. I do miss my dogs sometimes and then other times I remember . . .

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One thought on “A Doggy Story

  1. […] stories about dogs who eat things they shouldn’t and turn out OK so I googled my post about my dogs fecal frolic in Prospect Park. Then of course I found myself browsing down my blog’s rabbit hole which inspired […]

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