Dogs, wine and poo

Got some bad news today – tested positive for the JC virus. This is the virus that is believed to cause PML, the potentially fatal brain disease. Quite a few of us MSers are testing positive, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.

That news prompted me to write this funny story that happened to me. Last week I was over at my friend Katherine’s house. And Kath had just gotten the most adorable little puppy. A little malti-poo who is so stinking cute, tiny, and sweet. Or so I thought.

Kath went in the house to answer the phone and I am out on the deck with Finn, the pup. I’m petting him and he’s running around, being all cute. All of a sudden he takes off, flys off the deck and goes tearing ass thru the yard. I am watching him, but getting a little nervous since he is so small and he is running  toward the neighbor’s yard. I stand, and start calling him.  Thank goodness he comes back from the neighbor’s playset, carrying something in his mouth. Kath comes back out and I tell her that Finn took off but he just came back. I say, “Kath, he has something in his mouth.” She says, “What is it?” I say, ” It’s a freakin’ turd. I long, dried up turd.” And I start gagging.

She goes over to him to try to get it, and now he’s eating it like it’s a gourmet meal. He is eating as fast as he can and I am gagging so hard my eyes are about to pop out of my head. Kath, in between trying to get the log of poo out of her dog’s mouth yells at me, “Keli! Don’t throw up on my deck. Stop it! Finn, spit out the shit!” I wish I could as my retching is drowning out her yells.

The dog, now fighting for his treat, is running around, poop hanging out of his mouth, smeared on his mouth, trailing the scent of fecal matter all over. My gagging starts all over again with a vengence. Now my stomach muscles are screaming and the red wine I just drank is working its way back up my throat. My eyes are now on fire as tears stream down my cheeks. I go to the edge of her deck and hang over.

“Keli! Stop it! Finn! Spit out the turd!” Retttch! Retttch! Gaack! Reetttch! I wonder what the neighbors thought. I’m sure someone thought their brakes were shot. Or a cat was being tortured. Reettttch! Retttch! Gaaack!

I finally was able to stop my gag reflex, took a few deep breathes, calmed down, sat down and took a soothing sip of medicinal wine. Whew. The turd was gone (either caught or eaten) and all was well.

All until Finn came up to me, but his little front feet up on my leg,  andlooked up at me with those brown eyes. And I saw the smears around his mouth and the scent of his breath hit me.

My stomach muscles still hurt.


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