ACCOUNTANT BY DAY

Anyone who has ever referred to a dog as noble has never seen or been around my disgusting dog. Last night I experienced my single worst moment as a dog owner. My boyfriend had just stepped out on the porch for a cigarette, and let the dog out like he normally does. Apparently it did its business and he did not notice anything out of the ordinary. At the time I was in the bathroom attending to an important nose pimple and did not notice anything either, but as I left the bathroom I noticed the dog was acting oddly.

Specifically, she was displaying the body language that communicates, “I have done something I know is wrong and I am waiting for you to discover it and beat me to death or perhaps drown me, so in the meanwhile I will make myself as small as possible in hopes of delaying my inevitable fate. PLEASE FORGIVE ME MASTER!” She flattens herself, tucks her tail under her body, and rests her head on her front paws with a bleak and hopeless expression.

Because this behavior almost always means there has been a recent mess related to the expulsion of biological contaminants from her hind end, I immediately became suspicious and called her to me. She kept her head down and shuffled toward me about an inch, keeping her eyes down. I grabbed the container of Pupperoni treats on the nearby table and shook it, which yielded an expression of restrained interest, but she shuffled forward another few inches and assumed the submissive pose, which always makes me feel rather insulted because it implies that she is so intimidated by me, and what for? Does she think I will fly into a powerful rage and rend her body in twain?

I said, “Please don’t,” and she immediately popped up and began dragging her ass in a frenzy on the carpet. “No!” I said sharply, because I hate that even more than I hate the submissive pose. She wouldn’t stop. Suddenly a horrifying thought dawned on me, and I turned her onto her back and inspected her hindquarters with a critical eye.

Yes, it was as I feared. She had pooped into her tail hair and had three small fresh round turds matted into the fur. As if it had not been enough to soil herself, she then came into the house where we all live, and dragged her turdy ass on the floor. What kind of horrible creature would do this? A dog with an IQ of 5.

I immediately shouted for my boyfriend to bring the dog washy wipes with the picture of the smiling dog on the box. The smiling dog who has probably never shat on itself and then dragged its disgusting anus on someone’s carpet. Let alone someone who cares for it and provides it with food and creature comforts on a daily basis. My boyfriend held the struggling dog while I assumed the role of, what to call it, shit-plucker? After going through about a third of the wipes I realized that an emergency bath was necessary.

The dog was not any more prepared for this than I was, and she responded by going into full-on bath alert. First she attempted to run and hide, which was thwarted by the fact that I was still holding her. Then, she tried alternating between limpness (maybe I’ll think she died and give up) and rigidness (maybe I’ll think she died 12 hours ago and give up). Unfortunately for her I am a degree holder who was not fooled by this, and who also had a strong interest in getting every single particle of smashed shit off her horrible tail. I soaped her up and scrubbed her butt squeaky clean before toweling her off and setting her loose.

Then I had to go through the living room picking up tiny scraps of dog poop with a tissue.

I still think my dog is better than if I had a bird. But why does she have to have such a disgusting body? I’m making an appointment tomorrow to have her shaved.