I have just spent the last few days in Wye River with my sister and her two dogs, Henry and Eliza. We had a fantastic time. Yesterday was warm so we paddled and lay on the sand while the dogs hopped around like mad.
On the way home we decided to stop at Fairhaven beach to let the dogs have a run and look for nice rocks. The dogs ran a muck off the leashes and it was hard to get them back in the car. We managed to get Eliza in but Henry disappeared. My sister went in search found him in the bushes scoffing what looked like poo. And not just any poo but human poo. My sister got him away from it, declaring that she wanted to spew then found that it was all around his mouth. She dragged him, kicking and screaming, into the sea water and got him clean. Anyone who knows me knows that I can have problems with poo humour. If a colleague of mine wants to tell me about his bowel trouble we use the word ‘kakarella’. It somehow makes it easier to digest. I have also nearly dry reached during a fecal humour story in our local pub, once. So anyway, I hadn’t smelt much and tried not to think about it as we got back on the road home. Henry lay down and went to sleep. I noticed out loud that poo calms his stomach, because he vomited the whole time on the way down. So we laughed and moved on.
The trip went pretty smoothly. I had a numb bum by the time we reached the city. We had only about 2km’s to go when my sister and I looked at each other. She asked “Can you smell poo”. At the lights we turned around to the doggies in the back seat expecting one had relieved himself, to find, oh horror, that Henry had thrown up. The smell permeated through the car. We desperately wound down the windows and I hung my head out while I drove. “Don’t think about it, don’t think about it…” The image of the frothy poo came into my mind as the smell came into my open mouth and that was it. I tried to stop myself from dry reaching. I slowed right down and contemplated pulling over but my sister said, “we are nearly there, keep going”. I cupped my free hand tightly over my mouth and nose and started dry reaching. My sister became hysterical with laughter from the absurdity of it all. “Keep driving, keep driving”. We pulled up outside her house and I jumped out the the car, gasping for breath. “And I want a dog?” “Well, that’s what dogs do. They eat poo.”
I still love them.
