Monday Monty Blogging (a mother’s love edition)

After today, there can be no doubt as to my love for Monty. Explanation is after the jump, but I warn you – if you are easily grossed out, are eating, or find simply the idea of a story primarily about poop unsavory, stop reading. Seriously.

Monty and I were having a grand ole time playing in the snow in the backyard when he had to stop to do his business. But this wasn’t business as usual. Business was, ahem, stuck – and didn’t want to come out. He starts whining, I start freaking out. After it became clear that said poop was not going to come out on its own – I went in (armed with paper towels).
But alas, poop was winning and Monty was getting upset. So he runs inside and starts rubbing his ass on anything that’s not easily clean-able, like my white living room rug. Poop is prevailing. My paper towel offense made more of a mess than helping at all, and now Monty’s considerably long tush hair is matted with stink. Thoroughly freaked out and feeling like I’m going to puke, I carry Monty up to the bathroom and put him in the tub. Like most dogs, he’s not a fan.
I’m washing and wiping, but the tub is getting clogged up and before I know it, Monty is taking a shitbath and I’m elbow deep in brown water and chunks. (I told you to stop reading!) To make matters worse, because I didn’t want to use a washcloth, I’m just using paper towels and throwing them in the toilet – which now clogs up and overflows onto the bathroom floor. I start to cry.
Finally, because nothing is working, I cut all of the hair around his ass off while he’s still in the tub. Now free from poop’s grasp, Monty hops out of the tub, shakes himself off and goes to lay comfortably on his pillow, chewing a bone. I spend the next hour cleaning the bathroom and showering, wishing I had a loofah made of brillo. And now I have to wash Monty again.
So yes, I love my dog.

Join the Conversation

  • Sabriel

    … that is both the sweetest, and the grossest, story I have ever heard.
    I can imagine that I would have broken down crying too, when the toilet overflowed. What a chain of events! It sounds like you kept your cool and managed to prevail, though, so kudos to you!
    How is Monty doing?

  • ghostorchid

    See: here.

  • Miranda

    I would have started crying way earlier, in the backyard probably. So props.

  • Ann

    Why, oh why did I click through? I must be a masochist or something.

  • Jessica

    Dude, I thought of you while writing this and how you told me once that you never wanted to clean up the poop of something that couldn’t support you in your old age. I thought about that a lot today, lol.

  • mindprovender

    This is part of the reason why I am glad that my obsessive love animal (Paulie) is a cat – I only ever have to take pieces of food out of his mouth that are stuck there.
    I unfortunately understand though, if something like that did happen to him, I’d be in there, bare hands and all.

  • Shanna213

    I feel your pain. I realized how much I loved my Cairn Terrier when I had to squeeze out disgusting liquid from his anal glands to make him feel better. *sigh*

  • Jamie

    Oh that doesn’t mean you’re safe, I once had to rid my little kitty of some dried-up poop that had apparently become a part of her butt.
    Dogs tend to get it worse though. For some reason, my brother’s Boston terrier began puking all over the house once. I’d clean some up and it would just kind of fall out of his mouth somewhere else. Poor Pickle. He seemed alright once he was done puking though.

  • geeky_girl

    May I say, the login system hates me…
    Anyway, I would have just left the poor dear in the snow a while till things worked themselves out. My little Hana ( She’s the smaller tugging dog here ) just gets this terrible look on her face when she’s having a tough poop day… I laugh so hard… if she tries to butt-scoot I drop her in the kitchen, which has an easy to clean floor. Poor Monty!

  • Shana Lee

    The trials and tribulations of being a doggie mom. Been there, done that. What I hate is coming home to find out she’s gotten sick (from either end) in her kennel while I was gone and has been lying in it for awhile. Not only gross, but I feel terrible for her!
    My cat ate curling ribbon once and everything came out connected. And yes, assistance was required, made clear by the yowling coming from her litter box.

  • ElleStar

    My SO was amazed how much we talk about poop when my dog and I moved in with him. Now we have a new puppy and our poop talk has quadrupled (house training). I’ve had a lot of experience in dealing with poopy pets.
    If possible, keep the dog outside while he’s still wearing the poop. Use disposable products outside (like paper towels or my ever-present plastic bags). Also, if weather and facilities permit, hose down as much as possible outside. Then, move to the “dog towels” that can either be cleaned or thrown away without much fuss. Once the fear of poop spreading is minimized, then inside for a more thorough, less panicked, and more deliberate freeing of the animal from the poop.
    Containment, containment is key. If outside wasn’t an option, it would be much less cleaning to keep puppies in the bathroom with tile floors rather than carpet to clean.
    And while dogs may not be able to support you in your retirement, they also won’t ask to borrow your car when they turn 16. :)

  • blue

    I hear the same thing can happen to little kids too. Monty’s expressions reads: “thank you so much mummy.” :P

  • Katelyn

    “I start to cry.” – OMG I nearly peed when I read that line. That was the funniest, yet oddly touching story I’ve read in ages. lol

  • parisla

    What we won’t do for our dogs! :)

  • MaggieF

    Ahhh, pet ownership. I stepped in cold kitty harf a couple of weeks ago, barefoot (“EEEEEEEW!” I screamed). Also, summers are generally spent finding lizards around the house in various stages of vitality and dismemberment. Growing up rural with dogs and cats I’ve dealt with poop, vomit, various small creatures (live, dead, or in bits, and we could tell which cat left the present by which organ it didn’t eat), engorged ticks, and oozing wounds of various severity.
    That’s definitely the messiest/stinkiest I’ve heard of, though. Props to you, for dealing simultaneously with poop and a panicky doggy.

  • Kristen

    I had a similar moment of love about two months ago with Abbie. She had a horrible case of food poisoning. I spent 7 hours after a 14 hour day sitting in the shower while she alternatively vomited and pooped. And trying to get her to keep down some liquid by giving her crushed ice.
    At about 6am, when I realized I wasn’t going to get any sleep and I couldn’t take the day off…I looked into her furry little face and I loved her anyway…
    Stupid dog. =P

  • Sabriel

    That is true. I have had to remove crusted poop from a cat butt, too. Mostly I just felt bad for the cat, though, because she is such a sweet, gentle, dignified soul. The picture of composure. Usually.

  • HawkeyeRachel

    I’m laughing so hard, I’m almost crying. I love hearing about people who take care of their animals just as they would their own children, no matter what the circumstances are.

  • polska

    And I thought I was the only one who had to deal with doggie dingleberries. I definitely feel your pain. I made the mistake of leaving Teddy (my poodle mix) inside all day, and when I came home, he had rubbed zigzags and swirly shapes in poo all over the kitchen floor. I had to admit, the designs were nice, but very smelly.

  • hotcoco44

    Ohhh, I’ve been there. My 20-pound dog once ate an entire box of raisins when no one was home and subsequently spent all afternoon puking mounds of rehydrated grapes all over the kitchen floor. It seemed like it would never end. It took a whole lot of love for my family and I to clean up that mess. Raisins are always a totally off-limit food for doggies, and after this incident we learned to never keep them on a low shelf.

  • briana83

    I love my cat to death, and if he were ever in this ordeal (he has long fur so it’s quite possible) i too would help him until the horrid event was over.
    oh the things we do for our furry babies!

  • briana83

    how precious (and loving!) :-)

  • briana83

    my cat has had dried poops caught in his fur….and of course i have to take them out as he looks at me with a very irritated expression

  • enara

    omg i thought my dog was the only one whose poop got stuck! so nice to hear he’s not alone. =)

  • Echidne of the snakes

    My sainted Hank had koprophilia (Google it). One Christmas I put the dogs into the fenced backyard to get more space in the kitchen (two 60 lb dogs salivating over the meal prep is a lot of dog when you are stressed), even though I hadn’t cleaned it out for a month. In any case, Hank had an early meal there and when they came back in vomited all of it on the shoes of an elderly relative.
    The relative never came back…

  • DownAtTheDinghy

    We had a Maine Coon cat at my mom’s. He ALWAYS had poo stuck to his bushy butt fur. He would always stink and we’d yell, “Mom, he’s got poo on him” My mom cut the turd away, take him to the bathroom, and gently wash the area. Occasionally, he would fix the problem himself by dragging it on the carpet or the linoleum or a blanket. Siiiick.
    We considered shaving his butt as a long term fix, though it has never happened.
    Pets = the 3 P’s : poop,piss,puke. They just come with them, unfortunately.

  • alex

    How deep is your guys’ love? Very — you have done some gross things. I think Jessica was pushing the gross-velope there, though. That is love. I don’t know if I would have let Monty back inside till the poop war had gotten to the Versailles stage.
    I tested my love during dog-sitting stays with my friends’ beagle, which I had grown to love — sort of like a dog-uncle. I do believe he loved me too; I mean, know he loved my partner at least — he ate the crotch out of her panties once. (Not while they were on her. Gosh. It’s called a laundry pile, people. Never leave one exposed to a beagle.) Anyway, I was walking Edgar daily while they were out of town. And anyone with a beagle knows that walking them in city streets means the only way you’re going to have much of a “walk” is with lots of pulling. Beagles have to smell, chew, or consume everything within snout range. Walking becomes irrelevant when there’s a thick black substance to be snort-chewed off a random concrete surface. Edgar could suck, chew or inhale anything in his path. Hard end of a baguette? Crunch. Swallow. Gone. Spilled falafel remains? Sniff. Inhale. Done. He’d even give gum splotches the college try.
    One day during a walk through the park, he stopped pulling, sniffing or moving and I figured we’d gone into the routine poop mode. I got my bag ready for cleanup and looked around as if we were momentarily unrelated. I did this more to give him poop-dignity and peace while finishing the job. But it didn’t happen. It was taking too long and he was assuming a strange position, a bit like Monty’s drag I guess. He was stuck — done pushing and looking up at me intermittently. I was kind of talking to him and getting a bit concerned. What’s wrong Edgar? Do you have to go? Do you want to go home? Are you done already? (There was no poop yet.) But he’s just looking up at me and then around, waiting for me to get it. I figure maybe he’s sort of ready to leave and start pulling the leash in the direction of home. But he’s not budging.
    On a previous walk, I’d had to pull some cling-on’s off his butt after a similar sit-in. So I got down to inspect the boot. Indeed, there was something sticking out. But it wasn’t cling-on’s. It had some poo-ness around it and was hard to make out. By then, I knew I was going to have to buck up and get hold of it. So I fixed my bag to my fingers something like a sloppy surgeon’s glove and started in. It was slipping of my first grabs, until I finally got some purchase. But there was resistance. Whatever it was was lodged pretty good. I’m muttering WTF’s at Edgar now, hoping no one’s noticing too much yet that there’s delicate, amateur sphincter surgery underway at this lovely end of the park.
    With a tug, I finally got it going. And going. And going. “It” was plastic. It was long. It was freaking endless. I pulled, it slid. I pulled some more, it slid some more. I had a good nine inches slid out by now of a white-ish-clear, slippery plastic material. And this was coming out of a dog that was not 36 inches long and a foot off the ground. When I finally got to the end, the whole twisted-up thing was possibly as long as he was. And when unfurled, I discovered I could have possibly carried him home in it, because what it was, see, was a plastic grocery bag. Intact. Ready for re-use, even. Once the poop bits had been cleaned off of course.
    I held it up in front of me, stunned. I’m squatting there dumbfounded — I mean, jaw-dropped and staring at Edgar. But he was fine now. All clear. He was finished with the business, sans pushing, already ground-sniffing again and ready to move on. I hope at least it felt good. Because damn, beagle. That’s love. Of food and animal, I say.