Mom is out of town so I get to check up on her other kids, two furball Pomeranians and a poodle who walks like she's ridden one too many horses.
This morning Rusty, the smaller but alpha male, kind of cowered and tucked his butt under when I went to pick him up - he is usually annoyingly excited to see me. Since he's had issues with his hiney in the past I figured something was up again.
I picked him up and turned him over and sure enough, he had a big glob of shit dried to his asshole and meshed into his fur. That meant one thing: SCISSORS.
I grabbed the only pair I could find, those giant orange-handled sewing scissors, just perfect for dissecting a shitball off a dog's ass. C'mon, I'm sure every vet uses those...
As I sat down on the couch and tried to take another look, he crossed his dainty little hind legs... I don't think so BITCH.
He growled his little four-pound motor as I held him in my left arm and spread his legs with my right hand to get a better, closer look.
Huh. That was sure some soft fuzzy shit, like a fat woolly caterpillar found a nice spot to nuzzle in and take a nap.
I touched it and smelled my finger, preparing myself for a good gag.
Huh. It's not smelly, it's soft, it's a little furry....
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It's not under his tail.
I nearly cut off the damn dog's balls.
I looked at his face and giggled. He looked at mine like he was going to rip it off.
As I walked up the stairs I chuckled at what was most absurd - that I was stupid enough to mistaken the position of his balls for the asshole that's really right beneath his tail
that it's a pity the only scissors I could find were ones that would have made for a hideously messy castration.
Can you imgaine the phone call to Mom?