My dreams usually involve monsters and whales and dark water. No, those are nightmares. Usually, really strange things happen like a baby with a golden arm appears and then something else happens. Let's just say that once, on a hike up Sabino Canyon in Tucson, AZ with some friends we were talking about dreams and I told one of mine. One of the girls in the group looked at me a little strangely and said, "You should really see a Jungian therapist. They would love to get a hold of you." Somehow that sounded vaguely threatening, so I never did go find a Jungian therapist and gradually, the whales, the dark water and monsters faded away to plain old anxiety dreams of nakedness. Like everyone else has. I like to think that my happiness in raising guide dog puppies had fostered a sense of contentment and well being that has provided a safe haven for my subconscious to go on vacation and not have to dream up such elaborate scenarios at night. Until today.
Two years ago I told a story about Bingo doing the poo hunch in the middle of Westshore Mall and that I picked up his 50lb self and ran him out the door (which was quite a distance away! Pretty good for an middle-aged, out of shape lady!). Crisis averted. Carolyn then shared one of her poo stories which made me laugh so hard I though I was going to shoot coffee out my nose. I apologize Carolyn. I sincerely apologize. I completely understand now why you did what you did. But I get ahead of myself...
Today, we took the Jamster to Home Depot. As we were walking in, I thought to myself, "It's about 3:30, he had a big pee. That's good. Is there something else I should be thinking about?" Then my pea brain went off to think about Bed, Bath and Beyond, which was our next stop. What did I need, blah blah blah. We went in and started walking around. Fred had a HUGE list of things he needed. So I said I would go look at bathroom towel racks where I took a lovely photo of Jam as he looked at himself in the mirrors. I also got some cute video.
Then we found Fred and he sent us on this wild goose chase to find shelf doodads, and we wandered up and down aisles and couldn't find them. We met back up Fred and it is now about 4:15. The sweet spot for Jam as far as poo goes is right after breakfast, sometimes a 10 am poo and between 4:30 and 5:30 pm. He is REGULAR. No fooling around. So as we start to turn down the aisle I feel a little tug on the leash. I look down and it's the dreaded poo hunch!
CRAP (so to speak!). Now I have two choices: Let him poo (not a choice!) or take him out (we are far from the entrance). But, and here's the big question: Has he actually committed himself, or is he just hunched like Bingo?
Mind you all of this is going through my head in a fraction of a second as Fred is walking off down the aisle.
What do I do? I have to check to see if he is committed. Otherwise I can carry him. So, I
I reach behind him.
I reach behind him and I feel for poo.
Yep. He's committed.
In a big way.
It falls into my left hand. Oh my God. I have poo in my hand. My dog just pooped in my hand. I look up and there are people in the aisle. Did they see him poop in my hand? This is a real life anxiety dream only I am fully clothed and holding poo! And my dog is going to pump out some more!
I leap up. I can't carry him with a hand full of poo, so a RUN down the aisle with poor Jam running after me like his underwear is around his ankles. We run as fast as we can to the exit. Mind you, Jam CANNOT POO IN COAT. So my main goal (aside from getting poo out of hand) is to get the coat off of him and let him shoot poo out his butt in a safe place.
Right there by the exit is an orange bucket with a garbage sack. OMG I have to get this poo out of my hand. I stop for a micro second to throw the poo into the bucket and in that microsecond Jam has squirted out another poo WHICH I HAVE CAUGHT! OMG. I throw that one away as well and run Jam out the door and over to the median grassy area and yank the coat off of him.
I can hear the sigh of relief as he finishes his poo. I can also her the laughter as one of the Home Depot customers walks out to his car.
I tell myself, I have on all my clothes. It could have been worse.
 |
| Jam, lying down, in front of some mirrors in the bathroom department. You would think this would be foreshadowing, wouldn't you? |
CRAP (so to speak!). Now I have two choices: Let him poo (not a choice!) or take him out (we are far from the entrance). But, and here's the big question: Has he actually committed himself, or is he just hunched like Bingo?
Mind you all of this is going through my head in a fraction of a second as Fred is walking off down the aisle.
What do I do? I have to check to see if he is committed. Otherwise I can carry him. So, I
I reach behind him.
I reach behind him and I feel for poo.
Yep. He's committed.
In a big way.
It falls into my left hand. Oh my God. I have poo in my hand. My dog just pooped in my hand. I look up and there are people in the aisle. Did they see him poop in my hand? This is a real life anxiety dream only I am fully clothed and holding poo! And my dog is going to pump out some more!
I leap up. I can't carry him with a hand full of poo, so a RUN down the aisle with poor Jam running after me like his underwear is around his ankles. We run as fast as we can to the exit. Mind you, Jam CANNOT POO IN COAT. So my main goal (aside from getting poo out of hand) is to get the coat off of him and let him shoot poo out his butt in a safe place.
Right there by the exit is an orange bucket with a garbage sack. OMG I have to get this poo out of my hand. I stop for a micro second to throw the poo into the bucket and in that microsecond Jam has squirted out another poo WHICH I HAVE CAUGHT! OMG. I throw that one away as well and run Jam out the door and over to the median grassy area and yank the coat off of him.
I can hear the sigh of relief as he finishes his poo. I can also her the laughter as one of the Home Depot customers walks out to his car.
I tell myself, I have on all my clothes. It could have been worse.
