On Poop

This story was originally published on my vet school blog, “Wet Cleanup on Aisle 5.”

Bear the Dog was a mess.  You would be, too, if you’d just had an exploratory laparotomy that revealed two grass-encrusted tampons and a rawhide chew blocking your small intestine.  But at least Bear’s insides were working correctly now, as evidenced by the watery feces that covered his body after a night recovering in our kennel.

Cleaning him up was my first task of the day, and fortunately it was warm enough to hose him off outside – but carefully, so as not to wet the incision.

I had to soak his feet and tail in order to get the crust off, and then I picked away at it with my bare hands.  He was very patient throughout the ordeal, which took a good twenty minutes, at least.

Afterwards, I was back in the hospital realizing that I hadn’t yet had breakfast.

“Man, that made me hungry,” I said.

Then, as an afterthought, “Hmm.  That’s kinda messed up when dog poop makes you hungry.”

“Yep,” my coworker agreed. “You’re a lifer.”

About The Author

LaShelle Easton is a veterinarian, animal communicator, and author who hates describing herself in those terms because they put her in a box and leave out the fun stuff, like budding guitar player, chocoholic, tea lover, bookworm, crazy cat lady, computer geek, dinosaur fan… She lives on the edge of the North Cascades with The World’s Greatest Husband and their woggledog, cats, chickens, and sloth.

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