Great Caca Stories - Make a contribution. Be Part of the Book!
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Sunday, August 9, 2009
Welcome to the Great Caca Story archive. Please post you favorite or personal Caca story. Maybe you'll even end up in the upcoming book!
Poodles are nasty little yapping purse dogs. Their eyes run dark brown rivers of goo, their breath smells like rotten meat and they never leave their owners' laps except to lunge at strangers.
Your grandmother probably had a poodle. Mine didn't, not in an apartment in the Bronx.
Too bad poodles have such a bad rap. I am in love with my two - a tall graceful black Standard poodle named Merlin and an apricot miniature poodle named Katchinka. She's the quicker of the two, the one always on guard, all twelve pounds of her.
Katchinka loves vegetables but she craves oil. The night in question she searched out my fish oil capsules and punctured as many as she could stand, sucking out the contents before going on to the next. I don't know how many of the huge honkin' capsules she ate but her size was no match for the Omega 3s she encountered.
At first I noticed just a little whiff of fish. Then a little brown spot on the blanket over the back of the couch, her favorite spot. After she got up from my lap I definitely knew something was very wrong. She procesed that oil through her colon and out her pooper over the next three days, reeking of low tide at the marina. I tried to anticipate her movements (in both uses of the word), laying down absorbant cloths in her most common resting spots.
I admit, there were mistakes made. I didn't get to some blotches as soon as I should have and there is a permanet oily stain on the seat of a chair. No matter how many times I've gotten the carpet cleaner accessory out, there will always be the remembrance in that chair of Katchinka's fishy butt.
I don't have children. My thoughts don't wander to disposable diapers but that evening I had an gestalt at which time it occurred to me that instead of hoping she'd put that leaky butt down where I wanted her to, I could wrap her up and keep everything in place.
After assessing the size she'd need (12 pounds are 12 pounds, canine or human) the purchase was made at the local mini market. Once home I cut out a hole for her tail, helped her step into the legs and taped her up tight so that the diaper stayed on her hind end. Zut alors, this was the solution I needed.
Did Katchinka learn from her smelly and uncomortable experience? She did not. About a month later she knocked over a gallon container of vegetable oil and lapped it up. Same story, no fish. Happy ending.
2 comments:
A FISH STORY
Poodles are nasty little yapping purse dogs. Their eyes run dark brown rivers of goo, their breath smells like rotten meat and they never leave their owners' laps except to lunge at strangers.
Your grandmother probably had a poodle. Mine didn't, not in an apartment in the Bronx.
Too bad poodles have such a bad rap. I am in love with my two - a tall graceful black Standard poodle named Merlin and an apricot miniature poodle named Katchinka. She's the quicker of the two, the one always on guard, all twelve pounds of her.
Katchinka loves vegetables but she craves oil. The night in question she searched out my fish oil capsules and punctured as many as she could stand, sucking out the contents before going on to the next. I don't know how many of the huge honkin' capsules she ate but her size was no match for the Omega 3s she encountered.
At first I noticed just a little whiff of fish. Then a little brown spot on the blanket over the back of the couch, her favorite spot. After she got up from my lap I definitely knew something was very wrong. She procesed that oil through her colon and out her pooper over the next three days, reeking of low tide at the marina. I tried to anticipate her movements (in both uses of the word), laying down absorbant cloths in her most common resting spots.
I admit, there were mistakes made. I didn't get to some blotches as soon as I should have and there is a permanet oily stain on the seat of a chair. No matter how many times I've gotten the carpet cleaner accessory out, there will always be the remembrance in that chair of Katchinka's fishy butt.
I don't have children. My thoughts don't wander to disposable diapers but that evening I had an gestalt at which time it occurred to me that instead of hoping she'd put that leaky butt down where I wanted her to, I could wrap her up and keep everything in place.
After assessing the size she'd need (12 pounds are 12 pounds, canine or human) the purchase was made at the local mini market. Once home I cut out a hole for her tail, helped her step into the legs and taped her up tight so that the diaper stayed on her hind end. Zut alors, this was the solution I needed.
Did Katchinka learn from her smelly and uncomortable experience? She did not. About a month later she knocked over a gallon container of vegetable oil and lapped it up. Same story, no fish. Happy ending.
Look at me!
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