Pooped.

Poop.
     Or, Poo, for short.
That's right, I'm going to talk about it.  Because, whether you want to hear it or not: We dogs love poop. LOVE it.

That's one of the many mysteries of humans.  Why don't you like it?  I mean, you don't just dislike the aftermath of a meal, you treat it with disdain.  You even have a not-so-clever saying for it: Treated like crap.  I won't use the other word for poop here - you know what I mean.
But, if you were a dog, and one of your K9 companions treated you like crap, they'd actually be giving you the highest honors.  It could also mean that they are eating you, depending on their preferences.

Here is how humans see poop, based on my observations:
1) They definitely poop indoors, and usually do it behind closed door, like it's something to be embarrassed about.  Which raises the question:  Why is it such an issue when I poop inside?
2) They don't like to talk about it.  Not when it pertains to them, at least.
3) They don't like the smell. I've gathered this from the gagging (which I've learned is also a form of showing disdain) that occurs when my aforementioned pooping-inside happens (which it does, from time to time).
          3a) And, too add to this, though I'd think it goes without saying: They don't like the taste. I've never seen them try to taste it, but considering how angry they get with me when I'm enjoying some nice, fresh poo, they don't prefer it.

And that brings me to my next point in my poopy postulation: Don't humans understand the importance of having a balanced diet?  I hear mom and dad constantly talking about eating healthier (usually, it's right before they settle down to their Thursday, "Beer & Pizza Night").  It's a known fact that our bodies have difficulty getting all the necessary nutrients out of every meal - it's just too much for our bellies to process.  So, why not re-eat what we've eaten before to get any leftover nutrients?  It's good, and good for us AND the environment! Yeah, you hear me correctly - I'm calling out the benefits of recycling, too!  It's a much more environmentally friendly option to what humans do with our poop - bag it up and throw it away! What's up with that?  Whether we're on a walk, and I leave a little treasure behind for some unsuspecting lucky dog; or it's in the back yard.  They're right behind us with a shovel and a bag.  Now don't tell me that's not a little strange.

And here is how dogs see poop:
1) We prefer to poop outside.  The better to share with our friends!  However, we don't need to abide by any social protocol that requires us to "hold it."  So, if we need to poop right now, we'll poop right now - discretion be damned.
2) We would talk about it all day, if we could!  What do you think we dogs are barking back and forth to each other about all the time?  That's right, it's poop.  That's about the only thing that little Bean, Zeus and I have in common. It's all we talk about!
3) If we had opposable thumbs, the first thing we dogs would do is bottle our fecal scents to wear later.  Mmm, I'm drooling just thinking about it.
4) Poop is a K9 delicacy.  See above for further detail.

So, next time you scold your pooch for any poop-related activity that you deem inappropriate, remember what I've said here.

I don't doubt that you will, I'm sure it's seared into your mind.  And for that, you are welcome.

Tooth Fairy Ain't Got Nothin on Me

They talked about it for weeks.
          Then they went out and actually bought the stuff.
                    They took another week to ponder the idea some more.
                              And then it happened.

They Brushed My Teeth.

They started with Zeus.  I think it's because his breath could be used as a weapon of war if there was a way to bottle it and spread it across an entire country.  One lick, and he can render mom and dad useless...they gag, they whine, they cry (ok, that's exaggerated a little. But they do beg him to stop).  It's sad, really, because that little Bean sure loves to lick his family. And his couch. And his toys, and his bed. And anyone that comes within tongue's reach.  Actually, knowing his demeanor...maybe he has already realized his breath is a weapon of war.  Good dog.

I also think they started with Zeus because he is an even bigger sucker for treats than me.  The toothpaste they used is chicken flavored.  The only thing we love more than peanut butter is chicken!  He played along the first time, let them brush his teeth - and his breath was tolerable for at least a day!  The second try was not quite as successful...

{Don't be fooled. He's actually wide awake. Just seconds before, he has been licking the toothpaste off the brush.  But, when mom tried to actually brush his teeth, he immediately laid his head back down and pretended to sleep until she left.  No joke.  He's inspirational.}

So, mom moved on to me.  I know she gives me pets, and I know she always tells me I'm a good dog.  But, when she puts her mind to doing something absolutely ridiculous, like brush my teeth, she turns into something completely different from herself.  Something evil.

{The tools of torture.  There is also a finger brush, but apparently mom doesn't feel comfortable putting her fingers directly in my mouth when she knows I'm upset. I can't understand why!}

{This was fine.  Some harmless chicken flavor on mom's fingers.  This, I can handle.}

{Ok. Weird, but not horrible. I don't mind licking the chicken flavor off of this brush, though I thought it was strange that mom didn't just keep letting me lick it off her finger.}

{ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!  WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!}

{And this is where I put myself until mom took the brush away.  I wish I knew how to fake sleep.}

Now my teeth are squeaky clean.  What's that the wolf said when his teeth were complimented?  

The better to eat you with, Zeus.

I Gotta Bone To Pick

So I was given a rawhide bone for Christmas.  It was scary at first, but then I got used to it and grew to love it unconditionally.

Until I ate the entire thing.

The good news? Zeus got one, too.  A smaller one...because he's a little Bean.  He was never scared of his, but he was never particularly keen on it, either.  Thus, I had 2 bones!

And here is where the picking comes in.

Just because I might have given one little growl (or 5) or whipped my head away from mom aggressively (not my brightest moment), I got it taken away!  I haven't seen it for at least a day!

How is that fair?

I mean, what rude gift-givers mom and dad are. 

And I know I'm short, but do they really think that I don't see the bone high up on the mantel?  Well, I see it.  And I want it.

I feel like they want me to learn something from this.  I tried to sit and figure it out, but I decided to nap instead.  I'll think about it later.

All I know now is: this is ridiculous!