Last night after dinner I let the dogs out as usual and when Winston affectionately known as Winnie, came back in, the smell of dog-doo filled the kitchen. Oh my god, he must've stepped in it or something, and he was trotting off toward the rug as quickly as his soiled little feet would carry him. Of course by little, I mean large!
"Winston! Come here!" I called out in a panic. I ducked into the bathroom and grabbed one of the "dog towels" and spread it out on the floor. He walked all around it, careful not to step on it trying to get to me. Finally I was able to grab him and navigate him ONTO the towel. I wiped each of his feet on it, and nothing came off, but the odor was stronger than ever.
Fearfully I looked in the direction of his butt, and lo and behold there it was, lots of it, soft and hanging is his long hair and on his tail. I pulled the towel off the floor and attempted to reach toward the offending end of the dog. Winnie doesn't like anyone including other dogs to go near that area. He has a strange social phobia for a dog. I tried again, he ran away from me.
I gave chase through the living room swiping at him when was within range. He ran around in circles to avoid contact, and little pieces were dislodging and flying all around the room and onto the rugs. I was expending a lot of energy and went through quite a selection of towels. I never worked so frickin hard to do something that so deeply repulsed me in my whole life.
Finally, he laid down and let me finish trying to clean him up. I was down to wash cloths by that time. Then I had to run around with a scrub brush and soapy water looking for all the little spatters throughout the kitchen and living room. Ah, the joys of pet ownership. Tomorrow, Winston is getting his summer hair cut!
