Dogsitting Is For The Turds

No one ever told me that salon dog shampoo was an option. No one ever told me that you could spend more money on dog vitamins than you do on a mortgage payment. I also was never told that some dogs can be more annoying than waiting in line behind someone at Wal-Mart who has two shopping carts full of canned goods and decides to pay by check.

I agreed to dog sit for two dogs who looked like dust ruffles. They were super annoying and slept for ten minutes per night. When they weren't sleeping they were standing on the floor next to the bed whimpering for me to put them in bed with me. That was not happening. They were named Martin and Merryl, and they were 100 years old.

I didn't mind going over there because they had a cool house and lots of food, and they paid me a lot of money to sit at their house and hang out.

One night me and about eight girlfriends were sitting around watching a movie, and Dust Ruffles were laying on the floor, collecting dust. All of the sudden, Merryl jumped up, trotted three circles around Martin, and mounted him. He just laid there and let it happen. After Merryl was finished humping Martin and had a cigarette, she went to the foot of the stairs and started whining. The previous night, I learned that this was my cue to carry her furry ass up the stairs. Lord knows she wasn’t going to bust a calorie and do it herself.

The morning routine involved combining 27 pills with equal parts of regular and organic dog food (because the full organic can upsets their stomachs). Then I went off to work. I was exhausted and it was only 8:15 AM.

When I got home, I noticed that Merryl was scuffling a little slower than normal. She looked like she might pass away at any moment. I looked closer and realized what her problem was. She had a partially expelled turd in her butt, and was visibly upset. I was visibly upset alongside her as I had no idea how to help.. I called my friend Josh and told him I needed him to get there instantly.

About twenty seconds later Josh arrived with a gun, a first aid kit, and an overnight bag. He said he wasn't sure what I needed so he wanted to be prepared. I looked at him, snatched his gear, and threw it onto the ground.

“Are you okay? I just drove 80 miles an hour to get here.”

“That’s very chivalrous, Josh, and no I’m not okay. Look at her.”

Josh looked at her and his mouth dropped open.

“Why didn’t you tell me this over the phone?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t come.”

I smiled at him and patted his arm like a coach would at a little league game.

“I’m not pulling that dog shit out.”

“Josh, please? I don’t know what to do. She might explode internally. You can’t call 911 about something like this.”

I created fake tears in an attempt to get his cooperation.

He wadded up about seventeen paper towels in his hand and told me to hold her head and he would pull it out. After convincing me this was the only way to do the deed, I pulled on Merryl's head, he pulled on Merryl's half-turd and we started the game of Turd Tug-o-War. After about 3 minutes we were still tugging.

I got nervous and started to sweat. I decided that I needed to call the owners because Merryl was now shaking and I was scared she was going burst onto the kitchen floor. I ran to the phone and called the owner. The conversation went something like this:

Bonnie: Hello Kari?
Kari: Hi Bonnie. I have a question.
Bonnie: What? Are the babies okay?
Kari: Well, yes and no.
Bonnie: That doesn't make sense.
Kari: I know.
Bonnie: Are you going to tell me what's going on?
Kari: Yes. Merryl is constipated and I tried to pull it out but nothing is happening.
Bonnie: Oh, this happens a lot.
Kari: Great! Do you have a certain pill for that?
Bonnie: No. You just need to put her in the bathtub and run some warm water in there. Splash it up on her bottom until the stool is soft, then remove it, and give her a full bath with her organic salon dog shampoo.
Kari: Great. Thanks.

I hung up the phone, looked at the dog, looked at Josh, went in the bathroom, and threw up. I came back out and announced what we were supposed to do.

“I’m not doing that.”

“We have to, Josh. We have to.”

He looked at me and shook his head.

“No, we don’t.”

He grabbed another wad of paper towels and went back to tugging. He told me to go inside and not come out until he told me to. I went inside and started praying, and put a pillow over my head so I didn't have to listen in case he accidentally killed Merryl.

Josh stuck his head in the door and said, “I think the issue isn't constipation as much as it is about a week's worth of crap getting caught on the dog's ass hair and caking up, eventually blocking it's ability to poop at all. The old, dried up dog crap cake is like petrified wood, and it is practically super-glued to her butt. I’m going outside again.”

Thirty minutes later, he walked back in. No words were spoken. He took the wad of now brown paper towels, put them in the garbage, washed his hands with bleach, and stood silently in the kitchen. He turned, looked at me, turned toward the door, and exited without a word or his belongings.

Merryl came trotting in and sat down next to her food bowl. As Josh left, Merryl wagged her tail uncontrollably while she went to the window to watch him drive away. I swear she had a smile on her fuzzy face. There was a little piece of paper towel dangling from her butt fur.