Pucker, Molly, n' hefty doses of masengill

Pucker and I ran into my lovely neighbors, C, and her beagle (who's thinner - damn her) Molly. We were comparing poop notes (one can recognize a fellow Dog Person by whether or not they not only offer you an extra Duty Bag, but then take it from you and toss it, as they're closer to the Duty Can - she took filled bag, and tossed) - how beagles love love love to eat it. How her hubby, only walks Molly when absolutely necessary, as apparently, this appalling behavior induces his gag reflex. He despises any association with bodily functions that are not his own, including, but not limited to eating and rolling. Laughingly, I told her about Pucker's deer poop rolling experience, how irritated I was, scrubbing, shampooing - that I couldn't get the smell off - and she says, with a totally straight face: Masingill.

My face must've given me away...what the hell is that? DOUCHE. Wash your pup with douche. (I thought douche was for old ladies, with, um, a bacterial imbalance maybe? or some fungus? but I've never been sure -nor, clearly, just to set the record straight, have I needed one - in fact, currently literature on the subject highly recommends against using them on humans unless proscribed by an appropriate physician. I'm not sure I want to know why)

Works wonders. You'll need quite a bit of it; one container won't really do the trick. Choose a scent (feminine clean, fresh and clean, powdery clean - I noticed a theme) , raid the shelf, (not like there's a huge run on douche evidently, the don't carry much at a time) and douse dog. Brace yourself: if you think the aroma overwhelming, multiply it by 250, and that's what it smells like to a beagle. I'd love to think it's a severe deterrent to a repeat performance - but most likely? She'll roll again, just to get rid of the smell of feminine hygiene products.


I can just picture it: my nipping into CVS, buying douche by the case - the look on the pharmacists face: Christ, what does that poor woman have growing down there?! Sort of akin to buying the first box of tampons, on my own....I'd cover it with a magazine I didn't even read, a hairbrush I didn't need, a couple bags of frozen veg, a snickers - heaven forbid, the pimple faced teen behind the register assume I only came in for douche. 


I'm 34, and I can't buy certain products without a "cover". Some grown up I am!!

We laughed, as we circled the same patch of grass, waiting for the magic moments...comparing notes....

They're smart, so you'll be walking for miles prior to actually dropping a log anywhere - it lengthens the time outdoors. And heaven forbid she finally pops a squat, her little bum  puckering, and a....um....rosebud appears, and you're doing that dance of total joy that you, dressed as Nanuck of the North, look ridiculous doing, but YES! you can go home now -  but they smell something? They can suck it back in their backsides.


I find that highly disturbing. My colon would explode should I ever be foolish enough to try something so idiotically dangerous.  I can't think of anything short of my child bleeding from every orifice on his body or showing me a severed limb that would induce said reaction. 

We spent another 20 minutes of  the girls noses to the ground, not feeling our toes, nose and face numb, because her colon is stronger that a Dysen vacuum.  Since you know they have to go before letting them back in the house (or you'll find it behind the dining room table), it's annoying to realize you've been out-stubborned by a 30 pound dog. Whose brain is smaller than lint in your navel. 

(Personally, I don't have lint in my navel, should you be wondering) 

C tells me, after we laughed (nearly til we were warm over the douche thing) that apparently, beagles are not only one of the smartest dogs, but one of the most trainable. That, I can say, with particular sincerity, is up for debate - at least in this house. Perhaps, part of the problem is me - I taught her to roll over, only, she's, uh, so plumpish these days, she got stuck on her back. She simply refuses to high five...perhaps, I need to up the caliber of "tricks" to more of a "job". So far, she sucks at bringing in the Sunday paper, making the bed, I daren't encourage her to put shoes away. We've seen how she handles that-


But get this: the majority of beagles eat their own poop (and others) because they've watched us clean it up, so while I pick it up in a (triple) bag for disposal? This remains her version of "help cleaning up".


Gah.


I'd rather she learn to dust. Or use her Dyson ass to suck the fur off the floor. Now, in my corner? The one where Pucker excels over Molly? Pucker will laze away a morning curled up next to any sleeping human (including most likely, an axe murderer), until about the 9am hour. Molly? Insists upon getting up at 5am. No way on God's Great Green Earth am I going back to getting up at 5 to let her out. So sure, I lose bed space. I occasionally overheat, when she sleeps on my head; moments I've wondered if I'm going to suffocate when gas that could bring down the PLO wafts up from her cozy position on the duvet - (dear God if that's her belching); there's been a wee bit of Vomiting Of Plastic Pieces Of Stuff - but really? For once? I got lucky. She's a good sleeper.


I know, I know. I used to lead an intelligent life - one filled with interesting tidbits about my day, conversations based around politically motivated decisions, whether or not a Republican from MA in the Senate could really do what we'd like to see happen; perhaps even an amusing anecdote from Fox. New hot dining spots, a fabulous (or not so) date, something.


 Now, quite literally?


My life's gone to shit.