Talking shyt

All right, y'all who said I haven't written (about) shyt lately. The Diarrhoea Wars are over. Now, we have really solid shyt.

Yesterday, while eating brunch, I saw Rupert go to the pee pad, circle and squat. The good boy has gotten the hang of where to poop (now if only he'd figure that pee pads are good for peeing too). Picking up poop sausages is infinitely easier than cleaning up brown patches of diarrhoea, you only need to pick it up in a tissue and flush it. Which you need to do fast or he has tendency to walk over it and track it about. So shyt disposal was rapid, done while I was still chewing my bagel.

Today, shyt disposal interrupted a bowl of meat ball noodles. You've got to be a hardened dog parent to be able to pick up puppy waste, wash your hands and resume eating. That or I'm becoming one of those harassed parents who cannot eat a meal in one seating.

Last weekend, at the steakhouse we frequent, a family group of papa, mama and two kids were seated next to our usual table. I couldn't help noticing that the mama did not order a main course. She ate what the kids left. After feeding them first. Poor mama, I think she deserves better than that. The mama should be the alpha bitch in the pack, eating first and the kids get the leftovers. At least our furkids got that bit right. :)