Puppy Antics

It was mid-morning. Martin was changing into his work clothes when he glimpsed our puppy Eddy emerging furtively from the room that contained the cat’s litter box.

Eddy froze near the top of the stairs. His guilty expression, firmly clamped mouth, and bulging cheeks said it all.

Bonanza! He’d scored a mouthful of cat poop.

We yell at him every time. He knows he’s not supposed to eat cat poop. But apparently it’s just too yummy to resist.

Martin and Eddy stared at each other for a long moment, motionless, sizing up the situation and their relative positions. Then they both sprang into action.

Martin lunged forward, attempting to grab Eddy. Eddy shot between Martin’s legs, deftly evading his grasp, and thundered down the stairs. Martin galloped after him, shouting. He chased him noisily around the living room as sunlight streamed in through the open windows.

Too late, it occurred to him: He hadn’t finished dressing.

Martin wasn’t wearing pants.

He skidded to a stop in front of the bank of windows, momentarily unsure. What does one do in such a situation? Hurry back upstairs to properly dress, so the neighbors don’t see you running wildly around the house in your underpants? Or deal with the cat poop in the puppy’s mouth, right now, while half-naked and in plain view?

Eddy stood facing Martin, braced for action, watching him intently, his mouth working frantically as he gobbled the cat poop as fast as he could.

Screw the neighbors.

Martin leaped forward with a yell, grabbing at Eddy. Surprised, Eddy dropped a piece of poop and then delayed his escape to snatch at the errant hunk. Martin triumphantly seized Eddy, shoved his fingers into the wriggling puppy’s mouth, and fished out great quantities of soft, wet stool.

Eddy’s a smart puppy. He knew it was over, and willingly coughed the remaining contents of his mouth into Martin’s groping hand. He then wandered off, unconcerned with the temporary defeat. The cat would soon make more. Eddy would be ready.

In his underpants before the open windows, Martin stood, proud and victorious, with his hard-won handful of stool mixed with dog saliva. Success! Mission accomplished! Cat poop crisis dealt with!

It’s good to achieve one’s goal. It was shaping up to be a fine day.

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