The Scoop in the Poop

I waited for a nice, chilly day to take care of a job I've neglected for much too long: Scooping poop. For lots of reasons, I've let this job go for a number of months. With a German Shedder, poop piles up fast.

I've geared my mind to doing this for a number of weeks, but with holiday preparations, heavy rains, and unseasonably warm spells, the opportunity wasn't there. Well, okay, it was, but only thing worse than scooping months' worth of poop is scooping that poop on a warm and/or soggy day. Blech.

Yeah, I know. Too much information.

Today was the day. I grabbed the scooper and armed myself with a bunch of bags and started my trek around the lawn.

There's a reason why we call our dog Duh-chess or Knucklehead. For a German Shepherd, she's not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree. Her biggest problem is her mouth. She's worse than a Beagle or even a billy goat. She'll eat anything, keeping her digestion in states of varying turmoil. She'll have days where she's listless and will eat very little, and we know it's because she's somehow managed to eat something inedible.

We do our best to keep this at bay by preventing access to the known hot spots like the cat food, the litter pan, and the kitchen trash, but she still finds her way into mysterious bouts of tummy trouble. Today, during my seemingly-endless round of scooping, I scooped a poop into which a pair of Barbie's pants were knotted. Come on, now. What could possibly be appetizing about Barbie's yellow capris with the pink triangles? (Thank God Precious Daughter didn't spot them!)

The dumb dog deserves to be sick!!!