Asher

The Poop Zone

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Ash

When it’s time for us mutts to do our nightly bathroom stuff, mom comes out with us. She sends me and Jack and Tess into the fenced area she calls the Poop Zone. Nellie can’t make it that far, so she just staggers around until her bombs drop.

The Poop Zone is a recent addition to our backyard. Remember Sheriff Matt, the trainer? He told mom us mutts could be trained to do our bathroom stuff in one area of the yard. That way people wouldn’t step on our bombs all the time.

At first me and Tess thought the whole idea was nuts. Hey, we were used to splashing our scent and dropping our bombs wherever we felt like it. Mom would get so mad at Jack when he pissed on the grill. That was always fun to watch.

Anyway, we got this Poop Zone now. First thing in the morning we go straight to the zone. We always get praised for doing our business in the zone. Sometimes we even get a treat.

Tess caught on first. She’s so darn smart. Mom put her in the zone with the rest of us and she dropped a bomb. She got a cookie and got let out while me and Jack were still scratching our heads.

Finally Jack had to go real bad and mom wouldn’t let him out, so he went to the far corner and turned his back on us. Jack is real shy about his business and it was hard for him to go with everybody watching. But as soon as he finished mom gave him lots of pats and a big cookie.

Then it was just me. So maybe I was thinking too hard about something really simple. Why did our bathroom shrink? Before it was okay to go anywhere, but now mom wants us to go in one corner of the yard. How come?

While I’m thinking this over, Jack and Tess are making fun of me. People are hollering, “Do a poopers, Ash.” I knew I had to go but now I had an audience. My poop trap slammed shut. I was starting to get upset and looked up at mom.

Mom has always been a sucker for my baby blue eyes. She says she can read me through my eyes. She saw that I was getting frustrated, so she came inside the zone with me.

Mom told me all I had to do this time was pee. Okay, that’s no problem. I know that command, so I walked over to the same fern that Jack pissed on and let go a little squirt. The people clapped and mom slipped a treat in my mouth.

Then we went out front and played ball. We can pee and drop bombs in the big front yard, but in the backyard we have to use the Poop Zone.

There used to be a big stack of shoes at the back door waiting to be washed off. People were always stepping in our bombs. Us mutts didn’t think too much about it, but it sure made the people grumpy.

One time Jack was just lifting his leg to throw some splash on the shoes when mom grabbed him. It was so funny. Jack looked scared to death with mom shaking her finger at him and pointing at the shoes. Too bad Jack is deaf and couldn’t hear what mom had to say. That was pretty funny too.

These days it’s no big deal to use the Poop Zone. Once in a while we get lazy and leave a surprise in the grass, but mostly we use our own private latrine. It’s starting to smell real good to us mutts, even though the poop gets picked up on schedule. I never see shoes at the back door  anymore. I guess the Sheriff was right!

The Sheriff

 

 

 

Nellie

Losing Ground

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Nellie

I don’t like to admit it, but I am slowly failing. I know it, Mom knows it, but we don’t talk about it.

Remember I barked a few months ago that my cogs aren’t working right? I mean, I think that’s what the vet said. Cognitive dysfunction or something like that.

I get stuck in corners and can’t figure how to back up. I look left and mom turns right and I don’t have a clue where I am or where to go.

A couple nights ago I wandered off in the dark. Mom looked everywhere for me and finally found me staring at the garbage can. I was only twenty feet from the back door but I could have been on the moon. I just couldn’t find my way home.

I can’t say that I am particularly disturbed by my mental decline. It has not affected my appetite or desire for affection. I remain steadfast in my quest to follow mom wherever she goes. As long as I can trot along behind her, I am happy.

As the sharp images of past memories fade, I am left with feelings without detail. For example, I remember a time of hunger and neglect. I was afraid. But I do not recall where I lived or who owned me.

The next period is a blank space. Perhaps I was hit by a car or dumped off by people who considered me worthless. I was picked up by a stranger and taken to the animal shelter, where I was told my life would end.

I was hungry and in pain but I can’t remember where I hurt. I had lost all hope and held no expectation for a better life.

Then kindness claimed me. I was accepted into a new family with others of my kind. Some were young and frisky. One was old and fearful. I was assured I had value and would never be without a home again in this life.

Asher, Tess and Jack. Those names I can remember. Names from my past are long forgotten. I was given a new name, Nellie. It is quite elegant, don’t you think? And I have a nickname! Baby. It’s wonderful to have a nickname, even if it’s a silly name. They call me Baby because I am so much smaller than the other dogs.

How ironic to have two new names and be too deaf to hear them. And now, as my cogs dysfunction, I am lucky to remember that I am Nellie.

Perhaps in time I will lose all sense of self. But I will never forget how love feels. With my last breath I will give thanks that kindness and love came to me, however late in life. I may forget my name and the names of those around me, but I will not forget the sweet silly wonderfulness of being loved.

Forgive me, but I must quickly end this bark. The others are moving towards the sleeping room and I must follow. For once they turn the corner and I lose sight of them, I cannot find my way. I must go now, so that I may be close to those who love me.

 

 

 

 

 

Nellie

Bombs Away

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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?