Raw Food Diet, Day 372- So Sayeth The Turd

So. This new therapy thing is great for Big Pupi and all, but it's caused a seriously stinky chain of events in my life. You see, Pupi goes to work every 2 weeks, and prior to his hospital visit he must be bathed and groomed and made all handsome-like.And every time my bro is in for it, guess who else gets it too... ACK! I HATE it! This last time mom changed the blade drive on her buzzy thing and so she got an extra nice trim on Pupi. She was quite pleased with her attempts at mohawk stylin'
As for me, I fought her like a dog possessed and now my thick, lush, long leg and belly fur looks like I got into a tussle with a weed-wacker. SO NOT beastly! I am NOT pleased. I've been keeping an eye out for the buzzy beard-stealing monster every day now.
This, coupled with my anger about repeating a grade, my brand-spankin'-new harness that's made for houdini dogs, and this bogus hair cut has caused me to act out in ways my mom never thought possible. And if you read my last post and the 10 tidbits about me, you'll know what I'm talking about.

I have a new habit. But first, a little history:

It took my parents AGES to potty train me. When I first adopted my people, my tummy was so mad that I did explosion poobles 5-7 times a day, every day, for about 6 months. I just couldn't control it and they just didn't know what was making me sick. I was de-wormed, de-giardia-ed and de-coccidia-ed over and over again and nothing seemed to fix my volcano poobles. Finally, they made the discovery that Starches + Stanislaw = Projectile Yuck and little by little things normalized and I was on a pooble schedule. Not only that, but since being on the raw diet my poobles are tiny, practically odorless and are so solid they don't leave a mark when picked up. (What... that's more than you wanted to know? But poobles are AWESOME!)

Every so often - rarely, but sometimes - I will do a little pooble in the apartment. It happens! Sure, Big Pupi would NEVER have an accident unless he is terribly ill, but sometimes a nugget just escapes my bum. I'm not sick. I don't ask to go for a weeble walk. It just sneaks up behind me and jumps out. NOT MY FAULT! I get in serious trouble if they catch me in the act, but no amount of correction or re-training seems to help. There's no medical reason for it that they can find. My tum is in tip-top working order and I know to do my Good Boy business outside. WHATEVER! Stanislaw does as Stanislaw wants! Now for the new habit:

If a pooble happens to make the leap indoors, I pick it up and put it on the sofa.

YES. Why? I don't know! WHY NOT? My folks have never seen this happen, but somehow a fresh-baked turd manages to make its way onto the furniture once a week or so. They FLIP. I hear cries of "Thank goodness this sofa has a washable slip cover!" and "Stan needs to start making cheese money to pay for all these washes!" WHATEVER! My poops TELL me to do it! It's not like I have a choice, humans. Don't discriminate against the poo.

Mom thinks I'm doing this for one of 3 reasons:
1. I'm super smart and need more stimulation;
2. I've got a screw loose; or
3. I'm just plain old bored.

I'm thinking that my poobles are probably bored too so I put them someplace comfy for a nap. Mom also has a theory that this recent visit of negative 15-degree windchill weather and afternoons spent indoors is making me go a little batsh*t crazy. Maybe so. Warmer weather, a return to my exercise routine and some obedience class might do the trick. It might not.

It all depends on how studious my poobles are.

I hope they're fast learners. I'm sick of getting into trouble for their actions. This angel-faced feaster is ready to have some Good Boy headed his way. I guess I'm game for class as long as the food mommy keeps that meat coming and that buzzy thing away. Maybe the three of us can work out a deal. School starts tomorrow! There's just so much to do.

Don't obey the turd.
Stanislaw