That’s not my puppy
Earlier today, I bent over to pick up Cooper’s poop, and found myself face to face with a serpent. It whipped menacingly toward me, and I jumped back. I knew what I had to do. Just pick it up in the pooper bag. But for a few long moments, I wasn’t sure if I was up to the task.
I’m a physicist, folks. I like electricity. Metal. Bungee cord. Plastic. Wood sometimes. I don’t like living things. Especially when they don’t have eyes.
I scooped up the worm+poop combination and quickly wrapped it in several more pooper bags and then put that into a ziplock bag. Then I frantically called the vet and asked them what to do. They were way more calm than the occasion called for. Within five minutes, I was handing the ziplock to a veterinary technician. “Be careful when you open that!” I warned. She smiled politely. “We’ll give you a call.”
I went home, still amped from the worm encounter, and cleaned the house from top to bottom. I needed to wash that worm right out of my house. (It was actually in the backyard, but still). I even used the crevice cleaner. When I’m using the crevice cleaner, look out.
Lily, who can read my mood like a sonnet, has been pretty worried. She knows something’s up. I have no idea if she knows something’s up Cooper’s butt, but I suspect she does. She’s so perceptive.
I’m off to pick up the anti-worm medicine now. I’ve decided to dose both dogs since they spend so much time together. The vet said the worm was a roundworm. A cute name for such an ugly critter. Three days of meds, and they’ll be history. Thank god for western medicine.