Heater, Mother of Lance

My Little Non-Pooper

The thing about our dog is, you see, our dog only poops on grass. And this is not something we necessarily trained him to do, to poop only on grass. In fact, I don’t know why someone would actually train their dog to poop only on grass. Because if someone like that ever got stuck in a place where there is no grass, like say, a gigantic parking lot in Ukiah, California, and their dog really needed to go poop, that dog would hold that poop so tightly and with such astounding determination that two days later when he finally did go poop, a miniature crystallized replica of Mount Rushmore, all four sets of eyes, noses and ears intact, would tumble out of his ass.

So the other day Chuck and I stepped outside to do our morning duties — I say “our” because I really want Chuck to feel that I’m on his team, that we’re in this together, all for one poop and one poop for all — and there was a thin layer of melting snow masking the ground. And Chuck who has never seen snow was handling the whole spectacle with uncharacteristic calm, but he couldn’t figure out what the hell had happened to all the grass. He knew he had seen it there yesterday, it was there yesterday, he had pooped right over there on the grass yesterday, look over there, for crying out loud!

So I tried walking him back and forth in the snow thinking we might expose little patches of grass underneath our footprints. And little by little we created a perfectly acceptable pooping strip, a little rectangle of frozen but eminently recognizable grass. And we circled and circled, inching ever closer toward our deliverables, when I remembered that not only does Chuck refuse to poop anywhere but on grass, he refuses to poop anywhere but on dry grass, as in, grass that isn’t wet.

And you know, I wasn’t about to wait two days for a little caramelized head of George Washington to pop out his little tightened sphincter. We weren’t going to wait for the snow to melt and the grass to dry, or for the stars to align in a peaceful pooping arrangement. Our team was going to poop, right there, right in the middle of the non-grass, even if it meant that I get down on my knees, wrap my arms around his belly, and I’m embarrassed to even admit this, squeeze.

And all I can say is, I really hope that the grass dries soon.

  • poop on a stick

    2002/12/13 at 10:51 am

    mix in a little olive oil into his diet, and those carmelized mount rushmores will not reek havoc on his colon.

    I think we need some pics of mount rushmore on this site.



    2002/12/13 at 11:17 am

    Don’t underestimate the power of Poop. It is not moody, but a mathematical certainty.
    Maybe try some doggy booties? Chuck may not like the cold on his pads.

  • Kerry

    2002/12/13 at 12:34 pm

    Man, I don’t know about you guys, but Shanni’s story scared me. If I was a dog, I would so not want a blind man coming at my rectum with a match.

  • Marshall

    2002/12/13 at 1:00 pm

    As a longtime dog owner, I can tell you that dogs get constipated frequently, just like people do. Changes in lifestyles, travel, different water, anxiety and nervousness are all causes. I doubt anyone, human or animal, can “hold it in” for that long just to be stubborn. He needs some medicine, less solid food, lots of water and TLC. He’ll adjust, and he’ll learn to crap just about anywhere. Trust me.

  • Xanthan

    2002/12/13 at 1:03 pm

    Beerzie Boy is right: you’re qualified for motherhood. They say when you start potty training your toddler, you first work with them to help them identify when they have to poop. But this leads to embarassing moments like your child squatting in the middle of a crowded Starbucks and shouting at the top of their lungs, “Po-o-o-o-o-op! Po-o-o-o-o-o-p!” This, of course, doesn’t help you with the little congressman but will help prepare you for your next set of poop related adventures. Good luck Dooce! Maybe massaging his little tummy?

  • heather

    2002/12/13 at 4:43 pm

    our little stinker, chieka slinks off and lays a loaf in the living room on rainy days. and guess what? it’s fucking raining cats and dogs these days. so we walk and walk and walk and tigger gets busy and does his business. but chieka? nope. she pretends like theres nothing doing til we get back to the house. we watch her with eagle eyes and then, bam! you turn your back for a minute and she pinches one off. i think she goes invisible for that moment because it it happens so quickly. here’s the dogs!

  • Gina

    2002/12/15 at 4:59 pm

    Wow, the word “poop” appears 38 times on this page. 39, now.

  • nita

    2002/12/15 at 7:38 pm

    Did squeezing work? I mean, are you hoping that the grass dries soon because the squeezing was successful (and may be in danger of becoming a part of his routine)?

    Nigel’s business bit sort of pooches out when he’s ready to poop. We call it the poo indicator. As in, “Is that Nigel’s poo indicator? Does he need to go out?”

    ANd how big is Sir Chuckles? From the photos, he looked much larger than I thought he was.

  • rosebaby

    2002/12/18 at 11:17 am

    i’m with ya sistah. my dog would only poop on grass unless it was particularly desperate, and i do mean desperate. what’s more fun than squeezing a dog? administering valium to one – rectally.

  • zchamu

    2002/12/19 at 11:47 am

    Count your blessings. My dog will poop on grass, snow, paper, tile, hardwood floor, carpet, and Volkswagen upholstery.

  • MmMmGood

    2003/01/02 at 8:37 am

    Did you give him any coffee? That always gives me a fudge-nudge.

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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