What you are about to read is NOT fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or events is 100% accurate. This kind of thing really does happen here. Way too often.
Abby was upside-down on the couch again. Stomach to the seat, legs against the back, head hanging down toward floor.
THUD. Her head made floor contact.
“Mom! There’s a Callie poo under the couch!”
A few things you need to know: Callie is our dog. Callie spent the past six months poo-ing in the house. Callie stopped being a small dog at 3 months of age (i.e. not under-sofa size). Callie turned 14 (years) in December.
Oh. And Callie died earlier this month.
So of course, Abby’s pronouncement was taken with poo-size grain of salt (of the large dog variety).
LC was flat on his stomach beside the couch in a split second. He gazed into the two-inch opening.
“No! That’s not a poo! Oh, I bet it’s some old candy! From Easter!”
(This pronouncement was accepted a LOT more readily. After all, the kids’ Easter baskets are still in the dining room.)
(Don’t judge me.)
“Noooo, THAT’S a POO.” Abby would not be deterred.
“I think it’s a chocolate egg. Covered with dog hair,” insisted LC.
“It’s a poo.”
“HOW would a Callie poo get all the way under there?” I asked as I squeezed my face down next to LC’s. “That’s under the MIDDLE of the couch!”
“Iiiiiit’s a poo.”
“Easter candy.”
“Poo.”
“Chocolate egg.”
“It’s too lumpy. It’s a poo.”
“Wouldn’t we have smelled it?”
“I don’t know. But I know it’s a poo.”
By this time Abby’s face was red from hanging upside-down off the couch.
I ran to the kitchen and came back with the first thing I could think of to swipe the “chocolate egg” out with: A flyswatter.
(What? Yeah, I don’t know either. Charlie looked at me like I was an idiot.)
One swipe later, something brown shot out into the middle of the room.
Any wagers on what it was?
Yep.
Somehow my dog left us a message last week in the form of a turd. A turd message FROM THE GRAVE.
(Cue ominous music…)
(Or technically, from a blue cookie tin on the mantle. Not quite the same effect. Anyway.)
All we can figure is that she deposited it at some point in the past few months. As it had gotten more and more difficult for her to get up from the floor, sometimes all the straining and struggling would just squeeze a poo out. This time, I guess she then kicked it under the couch.
What I learned:
1. Abby, who is always confident in her opinion, even when it’s wrong, can sometimes be right.
2. Flyswatters, while effective as turd-retrieving implements, are not recommended for this application. (Although I’m not sure why. It’s not like fly guts are that much more sanitary than dog poo.)
3. Callie left more for us to remember her by than the drifts of dog hair and a lingering old-dog smell.
18 responses so far ↓
1 Peter P // May 31, 2010 at 10:16 pm
Please tell me the poo broke apart as you swatted it.
Please.
2 Wendy // May 31, 2010 at 10:17 pm
Callie totally belonged with you, didn’t she? What with your love of all things poop and everything.
3 Steph at the Red Clay Diaries // May 31, 2010 at 10:17 pm
Peter,
No. No it did not. Petrified.
4 Kristi Fornshell // May 31, 2010 at 10:25 pm
An otherworldly POO . I love it.
Flyswatter trumps pancake turner as a POO retriever.
Does Charlie play golf?
5 jasonS // May 31, 2010 at 11:39 pm
Ghost poo is by far my favorite kind of poo. Thanks for sharing your poo mystery with us. Maybe this story should be on one of those ghost hunters shows or something…
6 Helen // Jun 1, 2010 at 8:46 am
How are the kids doing since the loss of Callie?
7 Steph at the Red Clay Diaries // Jun 1, 2010 at 8:58 am
Wendy- It’s a chicken/egg thing. Did my ownership of Callie CREATE my love of poo, or vice versa?
Kristi- Golf? Why? Does a golf club trump them all?
JasonS- You have a favorite kind of poo. Really. You scare me.
Helen- They’re really doing pretty well. They were more sad at the IDEA of losing a dog. Callie’d been old and cranky for as long as they could remember. So they don’t really miss playtime or anything with her.
8 Charlie // Jun 1, 2010 at 9:50 am
You forgot to tell the sequel. Five days later, Charlie’s friend Sage says, “Hey, I found a chocolate egg behind the plant stand. Can I eat it?”
But this time, the egg really was an egg–we could tell because it was still wrapped in its colored foil. We said yes, he ate it, and we all shuddered as we remembered the last “egg” we found.
9 Robin Arnold // Jun 1, 2010 at 11:04 am
I very love your family.
Ya know, you can shellac that for a paperweight or show & tell. Or both.
10 Duane Scott // Jun 1, 2010 at 3:10 pm
I love your slightly dysfunctional family. You lot are an entertaining bunch. Never change.
11 Sarah Salter // Jun 1, 2010 at 3:21 pm
I can’t add anything of value to this discussion. (Which begs the question of whether or not this was a valuable discussion… I vote Yes!)
12 Candy // Jun 1, 2010 at 3:37 pm
I think you should write a children’s book – “Poo from the Rainbow Bridge.” I’d buy it. It would be a whole lot more realistic and sell better than “The Giving Tree.”
Or you could call it “Callie, the Giving Dog.”
13 Lainie Gallagher // Jun 1, 2010 at 10:34 pm
Love it! I honestly can appreciate the nostalgia that the poo stirred up. Honestly. Rest in peace, Callie-dog.
14 Bridget // Jun 3, 2010 at 9:28 pm
This brought a huge smile to my face for so many reasons. Thanks for sharing, Steph!
15 Kathy // Jun 4, 2010 at 9:07 am
bum bum bum bum ghost poo!
too funny! you know, most people just find toys and stuff under the couch….you’re a lucky one 
16 Amy Sullivan // Jun 4, 2010 at 10:19 am
I needed this! You are so funny.
17 Amy Sullivan // Jun 4, 2010 at 10:19 am
ps LOVE the name of your blog.
18 Heather of the EO // Jun 6, 2010 at 8:37 am
Firstly, you are a gifted humor writer.
And this is so freaking funny. Of course.
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