Who Pooped?

Now anyone who has spent time with my family would know that my parents are two very different people.  My mom’s sense of humor is the polar opposite of my dad’s. While growing up my brother’s and I knew exactly what we could joke with my mom about and what my dad would have reprimanded us for. (Seriously, I remember once Matt was very gassy and he was told he needed to either use the restroom or go to his room. Those were the options my father gave him) so, when it comes to bodily functions, they were not to be talked about any further than a simple, “Excuse me”. My dad and I can joke about a lot of stuff, but that was off limits, no question.  (I know, those of you who know my brother this might come as a huge shock to you)

Fast forward to the Smith home now.  We have an almost 2 year old yellow lab that is technically a service dog for 4Paw for Ability. The deal is we could train her to be a service dog, but if we loved her she would stay at our home and become a breeding dog for more service dogs. It took about 2 seconds for our family to fall in love with her, so needless to say, she is sticking around.

The only problem with this dog, she doesn’t listen. At.All.   She has been through professional training and even spent an extended period of time at what we called “prison” being trained. Nothing has worked.

This dog, Miss T, loves to carry around treasures. Unfortunately, now that the ground is frozen her treasures have become none other than clumps of frozen poop. And we aren’t just talking about dog poop, cattle and horse poop are major finds for her. She picks it up and tries to bring it into the house. Never in my life would I think I have to check a dog for clumps of frozen poop before I let her in the door.

The other day, she snuck some in. My mom found Miss T, on their bed (on top of the beautiful comforter set I got her for Christmas last year), and she was playing with none other than frozen poop. Mom flipped out. Now, I wasn’t here at the time, so I don’t know exactly what was said, but  the dog got in so much trouble that now, whenever anyone says “Poop” around her, she tucks her tail and stops whatever she is doing.

Out of everything we have tried, saying the word, “pooped” gets this dog to calm down.  Are you kidding me! How is that for irony? In a house where passing gas wasn’t even discussed, the sentence “Who Pooped” must be said in order to control the dog. Now it gets said all the time around my house. My mom and I can’t stop laughing about it, and it’s become so funny that even my dad has cracked a smile while saying “Who Pooped” to her.

A word of warning if you ever stop by, don’t take it personally if we ask, “Who pooped?” We aren’t directing it towards you!