Rawhides
Little Filthy enjoys rawhides. An unfortunate after-effect of this is that rawhides do not digest fully and he sometimes suffers from a …a hanging chad, so to speak. The other day, he went about his business, assumed his leap-frog position, and pooped. Good dog. I went to dispose of said poop and noted that nothing was there. Where there should have been a little stinker, there was none. I straightened and looked over at Little Filthy who was bent around, examining his backside where he had seemingly sprouted a second tail. I am not an engineer so I can’t explain the mechanics of this except to say that I believe rawhide was involved. I groaned and started my way toward him. At that point, Little Filthy decided to chase this second tail. He whirled around, thereby releasing said poop, at which point it flew out of his butt and hit me. Where isn’t important.This morning, had you seen Little Filthy, you might have confiscated him from this household for the amount of flea dirt seemingly covering his body. Here is how it happened. I woke up early and went into the kitchen. Little Filthy had his Fat Cat Crackle Bunny in his mouth and he pushed it against my calves as I stood at the counter, preparing coffee. This is part of his morning ritual. He grabs a toy, makes a lot of growling noises and bangs it against our legs. I opened the (full) container of coffee grounds and somehow snagged the scoop with a finger and sent it flying. I was not fully awake so it took me a moment to realize that 1) the scoop was not on the counter and 2) Little Filthy was no longer banging his toy against me. I turned and looked down at him and he looked like a coal miner. His face and back were covered with coffee grounds. He spit out his Bunny and looked at me. I couldn’t believe it. It looked like a million fleas had used him. Boss was asleep and I quickly weighed my options: 1) Vacuum him, which would wake Boss, 2) Dunk him in the bath tub like a tea bag, or 3) pretend he’s a chinchilla and that this is how we bathe him.
I opted for 3. He smells pretty good still.
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Just a random attorney writing about daily life with Little Filthy, my rotten dog.