The title of this post is Damn Dog #3 or #14. He is just attempting to deflect blame onto the birdseed.
The Damn Dog is named Danny Boy. He is a Newfoundland, black in colour with a white strip in his chest and tummy fur. And four white polka-spotted feet. He has a recessive Irish-spotted colouration. And he weights around one hundred and sixty pounds.
Quite cute. Until last evening.
I was watching television and playing scrabble with friends. Hubby was entranced in watching television and just being Hubby. The damn dog was in the living room but his head was in the kitchen. I suppose he was watching for the new mouse resident that keeps trying to get into his sealed metal can of dog food.
Point being – damn dog did not ask to go outside. He was allegedly oblivious to what was about to happen.
By the way. Danny Boy speaks with an Irish brogue.
“Too early for the mouse. Gonna take another nap,” he said as he stood up, walking past my chair heading toward the hallway.
He stopped and sniffed the carpet. I sniffed the air. He sniffed the air. He turned around and gingerly walked to the front of my footstool and looked down, sniffing. “Oh fuck-a-doodle-dooo,” he crooned.“Did I do that?”
I looked at the carpet by my chair and said, “What the hell IS that?!”
Damn dog said,“Fuck! More just hit the carpet, I don’t feel a thing.”
“Hell, it looks like a pile of leaves or something here on the floor. What IS that mess?” I took off my reading glasses for a better look.
“And there’s more of it here,” the damned dog said, tiptoeing to the other side of the footstool. “Is this what birdseed does to you?”
“It’s BIRDSEED,” I howled loud enough for Hubby to hear me. “He pooped out BIRDSEED!”
“Legitimately, no,” the dog said, “It just fell out of me. See, no poop in any pile. I didn’t even squat.”
“Damn dog!” I said.
“True, still, I smell only the faintest hint of poop and I’m the dog with the nose.”
“God damned dog!” Hubby said.
“Oh glory, here we go. I’ll be in my corner of the hall.”
“No! Danny Boy,” I told him, “Outside.”
“Best idea yet.” He tiptoed toward the deck door. “You don’t want me to keep walking through it like this, do you?”
Hubby had now taken in the extent of the damage to the carpet and my beautiful winter blanket trailing on the floor from the footstool. “God damn dog. He was eating birdseed again.”
“In my defense,” the dog said as his collar was attached to the lead on the deck with the fervour of a noose, “I didn’t know it could just fall out of your ass, undigested.”
“OUT” Hubby said. “And don’t eat any more birdseed.”
“It’s all on the carpet now.”
“No eating snow either!”
“Birds must have a turbo digestive system if I can’t even digest it.”
If Hubby had not just cleaned the poop yard and all was fine, then I would have been worried.
Dog went outside. Hubby got the garage broom and dustpan. I turned on the ceiling fan and covered my nose. But there really wasn’t much aroma since this birdseed had cleared his intestines without poop or slime coming along.
I waited for Hubby, poor Hubby, to clean it up and be in a little better mood before I asked the real questions here.
“So, how did he get to so much birdseed on the deck?”
“He scarfed it off the table. I put birdseed on the table for birds that don’t want to use the feeder or baskets.”
The table in question has sawed off legs. “Birdseed at his chin level?”
“I tell him not to eat snow and not to eat birdseed. He still does.”
I ask, as a wife of thirty-eight years now, how many times and ways can a woman say do not leave the dog outside unattended when snow or birdseed are present. Or blue racer snakes or wild skunks, both of which are another story. And do not leave birdseed in great amounts at the dog’s chin level. How many times and ways? Don’t torture yourself with that one. It is one hundred and thirty-two-ish.
So the birdseed that fell out of my damn dog’s arse by two cupsful was all swept up. Carpet was sprayed with a disinfectant essential oil. Dog was allowed back into the house but had to stay where we could see him. I barely slept, just waiting for more birdseed to fall out of you know where.