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Be a good host

November 7, 2010

The dog has coccidia.  It was a gift from the rabbits.  Easter came twice this year.

Having become a party bus for intestinal parasites has done little to alter the daily grind for the dog.  There is only the matter of nasty, bloody diarrhea.  And realistically, that is more my problem than hers.

I don’t relish the quandary presented when I try to collect liquid feces with a tiny plastic bag.  It really doesn’t matter, it’ll revert back to the Earth soon enough.  I just feel obligated to try (besides having to bring some to the vet, nicely wrapped with a yellow bow).  As a person that runs off-path, I get very irritated at the lazy fucks that never pick up their charges’ waste.

Do you know how disgusting it is to accidentally track dog crap into the house?  Fortunately, I take my shoes off in the appropriate activity area, which is well shy of the actual living area.  Nevertheless, you slackers can go F yourselves.

I see you out there.  Pretending you don’t notice your dog’s evacuations.  You are the type of people who will go first when the chaos happens.  The rest of us can sense you, you selfish pricks.  We are keeping score.

Anyway…

Open up, dammit!

I have to squirt a bunch of this gunk into the dog’s mouth.  The dog does not like to be told what to do.  She dislikes even more being physically made to do something.  I suppose we resemble each other in this obstinance.

It supposedly tastes like chicken.  I didn’t taste it.  I can tell you it doesn’t smell anything like chicken.  Maybe dirty chicken ass.  Maybe.

I am positive that yesterday morning’s Dick Move of the Day was a retaliatory maneuver.

 

OH, FFS!
That smarts.

 

The dog managed to use the retractable leash as a weapon.  Feign forward run, dash right, circle around back…cinch tight.  Take that, Man.

I can assure you that the warning message on the handle of the leash is not a joke.  That shit burns.  Yes, your suspicions are correct, the rope actually melted the polyester of my sexy adidas running pants.

 

Where the hell am I going to find a responsible adult to handle this for me?

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7 Comments leave one →
  1. November 7, 2010 10:53 AM

    that sucks. and there isn’t a way to rig up a poop bag like what the horses use no?

    • November 7, 2010 12:24 PM

      I don’t know, but I don’t fancy trying to hook such a thing up.

  2. November 7, 2010 2:47 PM

    I’d sympathize, but I have my own hells to deal with.

  3. November 7, 2010 7:16 PM

    FUCK YOU is comforting. So FUCK YOU too.

  4. November 8, 2010 9:12 AM

    Are you comforted yet?

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