Bombs Away

December 13, 2011
By

Nellie

I am so embarrassed. It is happening more often and I can’t seem to help myself.

Everybody knows I have the walking poops. My back and legs are so stiff that I can’t squat to poop like the other dogs.

When it is time for me to go, my tail rises  and I get a little curve to my butt. Then I stagger around trying not to lose my balance. I have no control once things start to happen.

The problem is worse because I don’t know how to ask to go outside. Everybody tries to guess when I need to go, but how can they know when I don’t know myself?

Sometimes I’m just stepping into the house when I drop a bomb. Other times I head to the door but don’t make it and I leave a trail of bombs behind me. Mom quietly picks up after me. She never scolds me. She just tells me she knows I can’t help it and she is glad I feel better after I go.

At first the other mutts made fun of me. Nobody else goes in the house. Well, Jack marks, but that’s different. Then one day I heard Ash whisper to Tess, “Don’t say nothing, Tess! Nellie can’t help it.”

That’s so like Ash to be kind. When he’s not goofing around, he really has a kind heart.

This morning the very worst thing happened. It was dark. I left one big poop on the patio but number two was on its way. It dropped just inside the kitchen door. Mom didn’t see it and stepped right on it.

I guess humans know when they’ve squashed a poop. Mom said she knew she scored a direct hit. She grabbed some towels and scrubbed. First the floor, then the doormat, then her shoes. The only thing she said was, “Don’t worry Nellie.”

But I do worry. I don’t want to be a bother. I don’t want people not to like me because I have accidents in the house. I feel ashamed and wish I could do better.

Mom must have sensed I was thinking these thoughts. She carefully put her arm around my neck and stroked my head. She knows I don’t like to be held.

“Who cares about the silly poops as long as we have you, Nellie?” mom said. She told me everybody loves me, especially her, and I am the best Christmas present anybody could ever have.

Then it was time for breakfast. Boiled chicken, veggies, and barley that Mom cooked up for us. I forgot all about my poop accident and fell into a dreamy sleep with my full belly making silly little noises.

Sometimes when you try your best, you still have problems. But if people love you anyway, who cares?

 

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