Special Delivery

When you have babies, you spend a lot of time talking about their poopy.  No one warns you about this aspect of early parenthood, by the way. You dream of cuddly infants cooing and just being plain adorable. You don't dream about diapers and baby wipes.  If you did, you'd never give birth. The poopy phase of parenthood passes quickly, thank God. Eventually, all the baby poop talk ends, right around the time your baby gets into college and graduates, God willing, not necessarily on schedule. Just as the kids start to get their sh*t together, a new phase begins. The 12-year-old puppy starts to lose his. The eyes get cloudy, the arthritis kicks in and suddenly, you've entered the Indoor Poopy Stage. No one warns you about this, either. If they did, you might never get a puppy in the first place.  After all, you housetrained the little pooper.  You figured you're done.  You're never done. And so, every morning, I ask hubby, "Any surprises?" "Any special deliveries?" "Any poopy pellets on the doggy bed?" Some days the answer is yes, a tiny one.  Some days, the answer is a happy no.  In this way, Dusty keeps us guessing.

The aging puppy