Well, our 14 year old Dachsund peed on the tile floor again tonight. I was busy doing laundy and he never gave me any signs. The good news is that when Max saw it on the floor, he actually walked around it instead of splashing around in it like it was a puddle from a spring rain.
Two days ago I was playing outside with Max when I received an anticipated phone call from my doctor's office. I was on the phone for about 8 minutes. During that time, Max climbed the retaining wall and went back into the "forbidden zone" to confiscate the poop scoopers. I was actually smiling when I saw that he had picked up some of little Fred's poops and had put them in the scooper quite nicely. Then suddenly, as things things always seem to occur, and while I'm still smiling, he reaches down and picks one up and tries to taste it. Well, I started screaming, shrieking or whatever you want to call my panicked shouts of "NOOOOOOOO!!! PUT THAT DOWN!!!! YUCKY!!!!!," as I ran to him and quickly removed him from the scene. We rushed into the bathroom to wash hands and I rinsed out his mouth and wiped it off. I wished I had some mouthwash or something. Blech!!!
I guess that's why this blog is called "poop in hand." Maybe I should change it to "poop in mouth."
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