Archie, a Slice of Cake, and Stinky Poo

If you don't know me well, you probably think I'm obsessed with poop, considering all the writing about it I've done. When Jason and I first started dating, my stomach was bothering me one night. When I complained about it, he suggested, "Maybe you have to poop." I didn't. But that wasn't the point. I was mortified that he would even think such a thing, let alone suggest it out loud. Obviously I've come a loooong way from those days . . .

My friend Delinda has a dog Archie. She is in her last year of law school and planning her wedding. She is living with her parents to help save money, and between bar expenses and wedding expenses, who can blame her?!? (And if you are wondering, yes, she is paying rent of some amount.) Anyway, the other day she woke up to an awful, eye-watering stench in her room . . . upon investigation, she discovered a pile of dog poo on top of a pile of dirty laundry. Sickened by the smell, she immediately cleaned it up. . .

Later in the day she was relaying to her mother how strange it was that her dog crapped in the bedroom on a pile of clothes. He's been house-broken for years and isn't old enough to have problems with it. Then her mother let her in on a little secret:

That is a picture of Archie eating a slice of cake. The other two dogs in the photos were celebrating their first birthday. And in honor of the celebration, Delinda's mom made them cake. And fed it to them. I'm sure Archie savored that slice of cake. But, boy did he pay for it later-- and so did Delinda!

On a side note (one which I think will amuse my own mother), if you have pets that roam the house-- or even escape on occasion and wander throughout the house-- I don't recommend leaving piles of clothes (dirty or clean) anywhere. When I was in high school, I had this beautiful business outfit that I wore for debate tournaments. It was really expensive, and I begged my parents to let me have it. I looked very professional in it. One weekend, weary from lack of sleep, I left my beautiful outfit in a pile on the floor of my bedroom. My beloved cat Popcorn took this opportunity to pee. All over it. Dog pee is bad. But cat pee-- well, it's pretty unbearable. To this day, my mom reminds me of this error in judgment (and cleanliness) on my part. You'd think this would have taught me not to leave piles of clothes around, but that's actually not the case. Even though I'm a thirty-something with two kids, a spouse, and a dog, I still leave my clothes in piles on the floor. Or the bed. Or the chair. Now I just know to put up the dog gate so the dog can't mark my stuff as his. . .