Chelsea Christensen
| Pooping Dog |
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| Written by Chelsea Christensen | |
| Sunday, 16 March 2008 | |
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So, I hooked him onto his leash in front of the other, smaller, furious shih tzu who was completely miffed that he wasn't being taken too. But it's reality that this guy is actually the fat, lazy shih tzu. The only difference is that he hasn't been to the vet yet. Therefore the already appointed 'fatty fat fat' dog was about to enjoy the cardiovascular work out of his life. We started the run out well but the dog had to be told to pace himself because he was seriously all over the shop. I mean, he had no running form whatsoever, and was doing the biggest no-no: expending all his energy in the first five minutes. So naturally I had to reason with him: "Hey buster, keep to a pace because we're in this for the long haul". He didn't listen though and continued to sprint ahead. I shrugged and thought about how he'd be paying for that choice in a short while. To which, when we hit the first hill, he promptly slowed down. I was practically dragging the poor guy up the hill, but nevertheless continued to push him because really, fatty fat fat fat? This wasn't going to be my dog! Then I started to get all these weird thoughts: What if he really is too fat to run, and I'm slowly killing him by forcing him to sprint up a very VERY big hill? What if he's too hot? Man, I really should have taken him to the groomers on the weekend. He must feel like he's wearing a massive puffer coat. I look down at him and see his tongue was nearly dragging on the floor, and I think: Oh my god he is really thirsty. He's probably going to collapse in complete dehydration because he's 3 kilos overweight, wearing the equivilant to an eskimo coat, and HE'S THIRSTY! I'm going to have to carry my dead dog back to the house! But I reason with myself, slap myself on the face a few times, tell myself to (wo)man up, and encourage the dog to keep at it. I even promise him treats when he gets home (for shame). Eventually I decide to shorten the run, just in case I'm right, that he really is having a hard time running, that I really am killing my dog. We turn the corner, slow down to a light jog and then walk. The dog looks up at me, relieved, happy, nay ECSTATIC that we've stopped. He is circling around in joy. EVER SO HAPPY until...he squats. In the middle of the sidewalk. Under a lampost. On a busy street. And what is my reaction?  Big dog poop. My mind is thinking: Oh.my.god I just dragged my dog who was desperate for a shit on a 20 minute run! I'm such a horrible person! Oh no! He can't poo here! I have no bags, nay RECEIPTS to collect the poop with! What am I going to do?! I then, in my line of quick thought, drag my dog to the nearest grassy patch, and in my exhaustive state of mind reckon that this should be okay. Until I look around at all the houses, with their lights on, and start to think how I would feel if I stepped in some dog's shit on my way to the car the next morning. Or even that evening! So, I reconsider my actions whilst the dog is turning in circles again. I desperately consider whether I should let him finish his business now and return later to pick up the, you know, shit. Then I think, rather, I know I won't be able to find it because its dark outside. I make a last-minute final decision to just drag the dog back to the house and let him sort himself out in the back garden. With this plan in full execution and I, standing in the backyard with desperate-to-poop shih tzu circling and angry-because-he-couldn't-come-too shih tzu watching, realise that the whole feat took too long and my shih tzu will now hold his business in and then go off to poop where he normally does -the kitchen floor. Lesson Learnt? Shih Tzu's are not built for running. They like to walk, poop, sniff, poop some more, and go to bed. Sounds like a good plan at the end of the day!
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Do you ever take your dog running with you? I decided to take mine last night for the first time ever because, well, the vet said he was getting a fat. I now know how a mother feels when she is told her child is fat. Fatty fat fatty. Needless to say, I was outraged at the thought I would have an obese dog that might one day be paraded on national television and mocked as the fattest shih tzu ever and then subjected to 'fat dog rehab' and eating only salad for the rest of his life (even though he likes salad).| Next > |
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