So. Much. Excrement.

Looks like I’m sticking with a theme for the blog (see The day the carpets wept); shit. I’ve run the numbers and the input to output ratio in this house does not add up. Every street has a fat cat that roams around getting fed by eight different families and I’m starting to wonder if my family are sneaking out and doing the same.

To be fair to the dogs, the baby is throwing a lot of food their way so they have put on a little winter layer. Actually quite a big layer. Poo Monster is huge and going on a diet. A little trombone plays when he walks and the sofa cries when he steps up, he used to jump up but, you know, he has cankles now.

All pockets, car doors, prams, carriers and backpacks have spare poo bags because those little fuckers have an uncanny ability to shit just once more than the number of poo bags you’ve grabbed. Then there’s the timing. All will be fine in the world of my dogs until they cross that white line down the middle of a road where an unfaltering need to empty themselves takes over.

Poo Monster got his name as a puppy after he started displaying some unwanted behaviours. The conversation with the dog trainer went a little something like this;

Me: Yes, he poos every time we go out.
Dog trainer: Aah yes the old ‘protest poo’
Me: Ey?
Dog trainer: Well, you’re leaving him, he doesn’t want you to leave him, so he shits on your carpet.

This came to a head when I had roughly seven minutes spare to nip home and let the dogs out before going for a job interview. I found the kitchen floor a lovely new shade of ‘mocha’. Poo Monster was crouching about to apply a second coat and was so happy to see me he bounded over, still mid shit, wiping his arse on my trousers. I should add I was dressed for the interview. Dick. Another time they managed to open the doors to a few rooms. I was pleasantly surprised as I checked the house to find no carnage in their wake, the little darlings probably just wanted to sleep on the sofa right? That was until I entered our bedroom and found one perfectly formed poo on my pillow. Spotty Crotch isn’t innocent in this, he has lifted his leg and pissed on me more than once.

The dogs aren’t spreading their waste products around the house anymore but the kids seem to be making up for it. The baby ripped his nappy off and shit in the dogs bed yesterday. Poo Monster now refuses to go to bed and I can’t blame him.

The MD is out of nappies now (yay) which means always knowing where the nearest toilet is (boo). Leaving the house always follows the same pattern;

Me: Do you need the toilet?
MD: No
Me: Can you try for me?
MD: No
*clips MD in to car seat*
MD: I need a wee wee
*bang head against wall and repeat process three times*

Between this routine, cloth nappies and the dogs constantly trying to out shit each other, about 80% of my day revolves around excrement. If I could make a recommendation for prospective parents or dog owners it would be to get hard floors. Hard, wipable floors and a strong stomach.

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