When I was in high school, we lived in a house with 2 bathrooms: one for my mom and her husband, the other for the three of us kids. Bathroom use worked out fairly well, as BJ's school started a 1/2 hour after Chris' and mine, and I liked to sleep in. ("Liked"? Who am I kidding? I still like to sleep in.)

Chris would take a shower first in the morning. Yep, we're a family of morning-showers. He had the unpleasant habit of leaving his dirty underwear in the bathroom when he was done showering. Even after we asked him not to, he'd leave them on the bathroom floor. Every morning BJ and I would stumble into the bathroom to get ready for school, Chris' underwear greeted us.

We tried many tactics to get Chris to pick up his underwear. We complained to Mom. We picked them up and left them on his bed. We played soccer with them as the ball, in front of him and his friends. We used them as weapons of mass destruction.

No luck.

Each morning, they were still there, waving at us with a fragrant, freshly worn underwear smell. Eventually I gave up. I stopped hounding Chris to pick up his dirty underwear, and started picking them up myself. And what a thankless job it was! A little sister cleaning up after her older brother! Oh, the shame!

Except that I didn't put them in his dirty clothes pile.

When he left his dirty underwear in the bathroom and I picked them up, I put them in a bag (plastic, tightly sealed) in the back of my closet. One by one those dirty underwear migrated from the Chris' butt, to the bathroom, to the dungeon of my closet.

I didn't think much of the underwear. I just picked them up and put them away. Eventually, there were no underwear on the bathroom floor in the morning. Ta dah! I had done my job and done it well. No more underwear on the bathroom floor! Joy!

Strangely, however, Chris didn't complain. Who wouldn't notice that you've gone from lots of underwear down to, say, 2 pair. But I didn't hear him say anything about them. 2 pair: the one he was wearing, and the one in the wash.

One day, a while after the morning brush with discarded underwear had stopped, I heard my mom complaining, "How can you have only 2 pair of underwear? I just bought you new ones two weeks ago! Where did they go?" Chris, "I don't know." as he started another load of laundry.

Ooops. Someone noticed.

I went into the back of my bedroom closet, pulled out the (now quite heavy) bag of dirty underwear and brought it out to the livingroom. And handed it to Chris. In front of my mom and BJ, both of who looked stunned. I explained why I did it. BJ smiled. Mom said nothing (though I suspect she was laughing inside at my cleverness). Chris was relieved to have underwear again.

He never left underwear on the bathroom floor again.

Man! I want a house with enough land to have this surprise:

Date:   	Tue, 23 Nov 2004 07:42:29 -0800 (PST)
From:   	Vicki 
To:  	        chris, Sonnie, Kitt, BJ, Barbara, Judy
Subject:  	Chickens!

Came home from the anniversary party and look what we 
found! Only 2 of the 18 or so eggs hatched (and
survived). We think "birth" occurred either Sunday or
Monday ... they sure are PUNY!

Your farmer friend,
Vicki

Kris and I took Bella and Annie for a walk tonight. When we're short for time, or just lazy, we'll take them up to the school and let them run around the big field. They get to run around, we get to walk and talk: a big win all around.

Well, on this walk, Bella stopped at one point, and started chowing down on some cat poop. I have no idea why this dog likes eating cat poop [1] (a google search answered that question quickly), but it annoys me to no end. I can't stand the shit-breath she has when she's done.

So, on the leash Bella goes, and we start walking home.

90% of the way home, Bella stops. Figuring she's just peeing, I keep walking. When the leash goes taut, and she resists, I realize something's up. When I look, she's eating more cat poop. I made the mistake of thinking it would be solid, and that I could just knock it out of her mouth: I stuck my gloved fingers into her mouth and tried to flick the poop out.

Big mistake.

My fingers come out covered in cat poop. And I'm angry now. I'm angry that this stupid dog ate cat shit not once, but twice. I'm angry that I now have cat poop on my gloves (ones my mom gave me a long while ago!). I'm angry that her breath smells of cat shit and she's giving me a shit-eating grin while still chewing. So, I did what any angry, shit-gloved, beagle-dragging woman would do.

I wiped my gloves on the dog.

Just as I was reaching down, somewhere in the fog of my anger, I heard Kris call out, "Not on the dog! Ewwwww!"

I really must listen to him more. I ended up dragging Bella home (mostly literal, she heeled very well for those last 150 yards), plunking her in the shower and giving her a bath. Did I mention she hates baths? She smells nice now. She also got a greenie. Stinky breath dog.

Footnote:

http://www.animalbehaviorassociates.com/ pdf/RMN_dogs_eat_poop.pdf

A behavior that is very common in dogs but not well understood is the eating of feces. Technically this is known as coprophagia. When given the chance, many dogs will eat the feces of other animals such as horses, deer and house cats. Raiding the litterbox is a common activity for dogs in households with cats. The behavior may be derived from the carnivorous (meat-eating) heritage of our pets. Carnivores frequently eat the internal organs and stomach contents (including poop) of the animals that they kill. As a result, eating the feces of other animals may be a normal extension of their carnivore behavior. There may be proteins and other nutrients in the feces that are eaten.

I wonder how valid text like this is, when quoting from another site:

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Should my posting count at fair use, since I'm commenting on it from the site I originally saw it?