Soolin is my three year old Golden Retriever. Early in her life the two of us went through what I not-so-fondly call ‘the worstest dog story ever told,’ and I still shudder to think of it. Yesterday another incident occurred which comes close. Susan and I took an afternoon walk on the bike path to the local Whole Foods. On the way back, Soolin inexplicably stopped to slurp up a giant dog turd. This alone was disgusting – I saw the whole thing from close range and it wasn’t pretty. It got worse though. When we got home Susan soon noticed that one of the dogs had gas, and after a while we narrowed it down to Soolin. The next couple of hours were mildly unpleasant but bearable. Then Susan and I sat down to play some coop Lego Star Wars, and at some point it began to truly and profoundly stink in the room. At first we both thought it was still the dog gas bringing its ‘A’ game, but the room became unbearable and Susan noticed Soolin had thrown up onto her dog bed. Nestled in a pile of kibble goo was the partially digested giant turd she had eaten earlier, stinking so badly it induced my gag reflex. Susan took the dogs outside while I attempted to clean up, and it’s a good thing for all involved that I was the only one in the room. How I managed to keep my gorge down I don’t know, but the whole thing was unpleasant to experience and would have been even worse to watch. I’m picturing the blueberry pie eating contest portion of that Steven King flick and thanking the stars we didn’t end up there.
All is well now. Soolin seems recovered and the only tangible loss is one irrevocably grossified dog bed, but man oh man, while I love my dog I do loathe the excretory incidents.