A Story About Poop

If becoming a parent has taught me one thing, it taught me about poop. Number of poops, poop color and poop consistency, diapers that can withstand poop blowouts…this stuff all becomes a huge theme of your new life as a parent. There are poops that are a one man job, there are poops that require reinforcements from your partner and poops that end with a bath….on more than two occasions we’ve cut our son out of onesies like a trauma victim in the ER because of poop.  So just to review, when you have a kid, you need to be prepared for poop to run your life. Now if, like me, you were first a dog parent before being a human parent you are also familiar with another breed of poop problems. Raise your hand if you have ever seen a poop paw print on your floor, so you know now you must trace the footsteps of Fido to ensure no further poop has spread through the home. And what about the times you can only SMELL the poop and now must conduct a CSI like investigation to locate its origination? But probably the most fun of all is when your dog has poop stuck to their butt and you get the pleasure of hosing it clean. Dogs…mans best friend, they are lucky they bring so much joy to our lives for what we put up with!

Well, I didn’t just come here to explain what parents go through with poop. I have a tale to tell, and it’s all about poop.

Yesterday my husband and I took our son Alex and our dog Fran downtown to get her treats and take a family walk. We were walking casually across an intersection when Fran decided she had to go THAT SECOND. She takes a quick number two in the middle of the street as people are bustling around us. We chuckle as I pick it up and toss it in the trash. A fellow dog owner quips her dog does the same. “Hahaha!” we laugh naively as we continue our walk completely oblivious to the danger hiding under Frans fluffy little nub tail. 20 minutes later we arrive at the car, fasten Alex in and plop Fran onto the center console where she likes to perch right between us as we drive. Now many a times since being pregnant and gaining what can only be described as a super human sense of smell, I have called shit and despite no one else smelling it, I have been correct at almost a 100% rate. So we pull off and I smell something, I alert my husband then glance down at Fran, prepared to do a paw check and that’s when I notice the poop smear on the leather. Immediately I pick Frans back legs up and command Tommy to pull over as we have a level 5 shit situation. I assigned it a level five off the jump due to the fact we were in a confined and moving space. It wasn’t until we parked and removed Fran from the vehicle that we reassigned it a level 10. It was uncontainable with the supplies we had available away from home and in the open road. We couldn’t seem to wipe her clean and you know how dogs buttholes touch everything in their path if you are a dog owner. There was no way we could put her anywhere without the threat of widespread contamination. And then it came to me, a eureka moment! A diaper from my sons baby bag! I fastened the diaper onto Fran and she looked away in shame. We hand sanitized the interior of the truck and drove Fran, in Alex’s diaper, home. A blow to her self esteem was worth ensuring the poop had been properly contained and Tommy could stop his desperate plan to hand in the leased truck early. Yes, there had been talk of turning it in since we could never be comfortable again wondering where the shit had gotten…

So we get home and I clean Fran up and we settle in for the night. I’m feeling pretty good about how that all was handled and I drift into a restful sleep not knowing the danger that was brewing in Alex’s bowels. Little did I know that there would be a Category 10 I’d be dealing with the very next morning. If I would have known what was going to happen with Fran I wouldn’t have fed him spinach that day, but I can’t predict the future so I did. While I tried to clean up what looked like three pounds of spinach laden poop, Alex decided to roll over, roll back and stick his heel into the dirty diaper. Fran watched as I hosed him off in the shower and I sadly changed the mental incident calendar I keep back to zero days without a poop incident.

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