Last week was warm and lovely. My kids had quite the grand time of sneaking canning and pickle jars from the cabinets, and then going outside and filling them with caterpillars, slugs, beetles, and worms. Every so often I’d find one of these bug-filled jars in their room, on the carpet, or in a window sill. After tiring of battling with them to keep the bugs outside, I took a break from being frustrated for a little bit and went on a baking spree…cause that’s what happens when you have hormones.
After consuming my week’s share of calories in cake batter, I decided I better go see what my youngest was doing in the backyard. I could hear him outside squeeling and laughing and having a blast since I had left the kitchen door wide open, but I knew that he was having a little more fun than usual being he was the only one outside. Lily, our dog, was right next to me as I went outside to investigate.
There my youngest was, butt-naked with the waterhose on full blast, splashing in the mudpuddle he had created doing what little boys do best: peeing and…taking a dump on the grass.
Now to set the record straight, my little boy has peed outside plenty of times, but going No. 2 outside was a new one for him. I was mortified–I was disgusted–I had no idea what I was supposed to do with little kid crap. And then before I could decide whether I should grab some toilet paper and pick it up and flush it down the toilet or whether I should grab a doggie doo bag and throw it in the trash, Lily ran over to him and ate the poop right up.
My day had gone from the utter bliss of making desserts to the utter horror of poop eating observation.
I could have died right there.
Then we went camping with our oldest son’s cubscout pack over the weekend. Unfortunately, we could not take our dog with us to this campout, but we decided it would be okay to leave Lily home by herself for the full day and night she’d be alone knowing fully that she’d probably pee and poop all over the place while we were gone. A dog’s gotta doo what a dog’s gotta doo, right?
So, when we arrived the next morning we warned the kids to be careful walking around and to look for dog poop before going to their rooms. One by one we each checked the rooms, under couches, behind doors for doggie doo. When we couldnt find any, we checked the house again to make sure. Look, it’s not like she hasnt ever pooped in this house before. After spending twenty minutes looking for dog turds, we came to the only conclusion:
Lily must have eaten her turds. There is no other explanation. My dog ate her poop.
Now to answer The Bloggess’ question: This is why people Google: “Why do dogs eat their poop?”
