My Poop Woes...

So I thought I'd blog about the fun little gifts my sweet innocent doggy has been giving me lately.

Let me start by saying that where we live there is no yard. Therefore we have to take him for a walk to go poop to this park near our home. They provide "little baggies" to clean up the mess. How thoughtful. I usually make my husband do this dirty deed because I do NOT like picking up the poop nor do I like doing it in public. I'm just weird like that

So BlackJack and I go for a walk at about 8.30 in the evening because sweet, dear hubby is busy and my dog needs to go. I tuff up and say, "OK I will buckle down and pick up the poop." I stroll over to the least populated spot I could find. And let him do his thing. He does. I promptly get a baggie and pick up the warm, mushy, mess (no kidding) and deposit it in the bin provided.

My dog however is not a one-time pooper. He has to go at least twice an outing. So he walks a few paces yonder and this time unloads the rest. Softer, mushier, and the pile quite bigger this time around, I say "let 'em give me a ticket I ain't pickin that up."

My dog is done but, like usual for him, has a wee bit o'poop left you-know-where. {note to self: bring wipes next time}. You see...when walking a bulldog people don't just walk on by. They have to stop and oogle and the whole time I'm thinking ... "oh just let us go there is poop all over his butt.!"

So I peer into the not-so-far distance and see a little granny and her tiny pomeranian. Blackjack sees them too, she sees us and proceeds to come over and chat for the next 15 monutes or so. All the while I'm grabbing Blacky by the scruff, keeping him close, so he doesn't break granny and her pooch. After our little conversation she leaves, I look down and admire the poop smeared all over my shin.
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Now fast forward a couple days to this weekend. My hubby and I are cuddled up for bedtime on the hard living room floor to escape the heat of the upstairs. I twist and turn and finally about midnight I fall asleep. About one thirty, our dog, who is sleeping in his crate a few feet away in the kitchen won't stop moving about and it's quite noisy because his nails scratch the bottom of the crate.

I've had enough and head up to the furnace portion of our home. I get to the top and look back and notice the lights on down stairs. My husband soon appears and says, "yah I know why he was moving around so much...he pooped in his crate."

I come down and we stare for a good 5 minutes wondering what to do next. Next thing you know I'm upstais giving my dog a bath and my husband is outside cleaning the crate. At three a.m., after setting him up in a "fenced" in area of the kitchen with just a tad bit of carpet in that area, we roll into, or I mean onto, our floor and settle in for a good nights sleep.

Seven thirty a.m. our daughter comes downstairs and I go upstairs and hop in bed. I hear my husband rustling about and then head out the front door with my daughter. I go downstairs too curious to sleep now.

Well GOOD MORNING!! I'm greeted to a nice little strip of doggie hershey squirts on that one itty bitty bit of carpet that was in his fenced in area.

And I wanted a dog why?????????