The Crappy Poet

I'm a twenty-something edging past newlywed and new dog owner. I run, write, I work. What else is there besides the struggle to overcome all of that and make something of myself...


Miss Doxie was Right

I have been reading a blog by Miss Doxie recently because this Christmas I became co-owner of this:

a nine week old miniature dachund. Besides learning to spell Dachund, it has taught me alot about being a parent that I am sure I will need someday. Such as the fact that under certain circumstances, the clipping of fingernails can be a violation of the Geneva convention. Also, that baths are not a good thing. And that body size does not correspond to the size of one's poop.

Do not be fooled by the Target sock sweater and disarming expression. This small dog is capable of some very large poop. You see, dachunds are made to chase small mammals down holes. Therefore, in the absence of small mammals and holes, they are somewhat out of their element. And when an animal is out of it's element, they tend to develop defense mechanisms. This one's is poop. And yet, he also uses excrement as a greeting. As in, "Dad is home! Let me run over to him, flip over so he can pet me, and then pee on him!"

For some reason, this fountain impersonation has become the choice greeting for my husband. The dog doesn't do it to me. And at first, I was glad. But now I am kind of feeling left out. I mean, amI not worthy of sphincter malfunction? Does my presence not inspire such joy as to render one incontinent? And this sort of thinking is what makes me think that I am becoming prepared for parenthood. Because it is the sort of batshit crazy thinking that only a mother could rationalize.


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