Pony Sized Poo and The Paper Pic

 
 

Since Zuma has been on medication, her toilet activity has doubled and it is not just her usual firm turd, it is …. ugh. I’m talking Pony Size Poo and yeh, I already know how much a race horse pees. This poor dog. Not to be gross, ya’ll, but #2 is not unlike picking up a jumbo soft serve ice cream. Did I mention it is comparable to a jumbo serving? Like, I need to scoop it up with a bag and it takes two hands to do a good job whilst I am fiercely clenching the leash between my teeth and Zuma is feeling thoroughly relieved and perky and wants to leave the scene and get on with her day.

Good thing I don’t wear dentures.

Let me assure you, when I am in dog poo scoop mode, it is not a graceful picture. I’ve had her on a regular schedule the past three years; she pooped once a day, in the morning, then she came in for breakfast and after an hour and a half we went for a walk. Now she is on prednisone and antibiotics she goes #2 three times a day and pees constantly. I get up in the middle of the night and we take the elevator down to ground level to get out to the Poo Area. She would be horrified if she had an accident in the hotel room.

At home I can get out a pitchfork and chuck #2 in a bag. This double fisted bag scooping isn’t my fave part of traveling with a big dog. We’re almost finished the pills, I’m hoping and praying toilet trips will return to normal soon.

We feed her high quality dog food (Solid Gold and Wellness) so her turds are more concentrated. Good food = less waste to pick up! She doesn’t get any human food unless she counter surfs and snags a steak off the counter when Doug is out starting the grill and forgets she is an opportunist who is particularly fond of a good tenderloin or pork chop. She is still eating the same food she gets at home (minus steak thefts) but the shitty effects of these pills are really wearing me out. I will spare you the photos. One great thing is that this La Quinta has a dog toilet area and they provide poopy bags and a poo garbage can. Needless to say, no grass grows there. I really appreciate the hotel’s thoughtfulness, providing for dogs.

Yesterday Zuma got the urge (Oh please God, not here Zuma) and she dumped a load on a lawn while we were out walking. I sprang into action and was extremely thankful she plunked it down behind a large shrub so the homeowners couldn’t see me if they peeked out their windows, but it was a squishy pile and I had a hard time gathering it all up and some of it leaked out and got on the bag’s handles. It was a challenge to get the bag tied and I ended up with traces of smooshy shit on my hands, pants and shoes. I surely looked like a madwoman marching along the sidewalk with four roaring lanes of busy traffic zooming beside us, me sporting the overflowing green plastic bag of shit laughing out loud (what are ya gonna do but laugh at yourself?) and Zuma prancing happily along the sidewalk like a pepped up parade pony.

Later, I was chatting with some people and a guy rode up on a bike with a Nikon bearing what seemed like a two foot long lens. “Uh Oh”, said one of the women I was talking with, “The paparazzi is here”. Turns out he is a photojournalist for the local newspaper! I’ll keep you posted whether or not they publish the photo.

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