a long, TMI journey


This sext brought to you by Simple Human. 

(No, this is not a sponsored post. You'll see.)

Ike is apparently on a 5+ year mission to destroy everything we own. Basically, Ike is why we can't have nice things. Yet he's also why we had to buy a $50 Simple Human pet proof trash can. (Isn't that... ironike?)

But Ike was too smart for the trash can, and one night I came home to find it across the house. Trash and blueberry footprints were strewn across the floor, and an empty bag of frozen blueberries (which had been full when I threw it away) sat at the end of the trail.

Google informed me that blueberries were safe for dogs to eat, so I forgot about the whole thing until the next day, when Ike and I were taking a walk.

Ike usually doesn't do any business of the number two variety on walks, but as we entered a park in our neighborhood, he made it pretty clear that he needed to empty his bowels. I didn't have any bags, and leading him off to a discreet corner wasn't an option because the park was packed for an AIDS walk. I pulled Ike, mid squat, to an information booth and managed to find some bags. Problem solved.

Except do you know what happens after eating an entire gallon sized bag of blueberries? Blueberry diarrhea happens. And do you know what happens when you try to pick up blueberry diarrhea with a flimsy plastic bag? Shit. Shit happens. It happens all over your hands.

Luckily, with the event going on, there were 15 port-o-potties lining the park, with a portable hand washing station nearby. I set off to wash my hands, but by the time I got to the station I had a new mission: wipe Ike's, um, butthole. Is there a more glamorous word to describe that body part? Let's go with trou de derriere. Everything is ritzier in French.

Anyway, Ike's trou de derriere had not escaped the blueberry diarrhée cleanly.

It looked like an alien crime scene. And people were noticing. So wiping was necessary.

Those portable hand washing stations sure are convenient. They have a sink, soap and paper towels. BUT THEY DON'T HAVE A TRASH CAN WHICH IS REALLY NECESSARY WHEN YOU WIPE YOUR DOG'S BUTT.

pause while I remind myself why I keep this creature around.

Now, picture me walking around this park for a good five minutes, carrying the most disgusting paper towel you can possibly imagine, still with the explosion from before all over my hands, desperately searching for a trash can. This was not exactly the pleasant walk I had imagined.

But I found the trash can, I washed my hands, and life went on. I even stopped to take this picture on the way out:

And when I turned around from snapping my masterpiece, I saw that Ike had created his very own encore masterpiece behind me.

Back to the washing station it was.

Thanks, Simple Human.

(All opinions are my own.)