Monday, January 3, 2011

Beastie Bonus Gifts and the Joys of Friendship

I love my beastie. I usually like other people's beasties. Usually. Once in a while, a roving beastie leaves behind a bonus gift. It's not the gifting that bothers me overly much. Such generosity is but one part of the many joys of creature-companionship. The quandary comes in the case of informing the owner of said beastie of the glad tidings. Should the owner be one of my dear, dear friends, they would most certainly be informed by a coarse yet snickering comment.

"Hey, your dog took a shit in my living room."

The tricky bit comes when I too am a guest in the home, my beastie by my side. Having the misfortune of being the first one to discover the present, I must decide: Inform the other beastie owner of the clean-up on Aisle Three or do it myself? The answer revolves around figuring out if the size of the gift could reasonably have come from my beastie. If the answer is no, I'm more likely to inform the actual owner. If the answer is yes, well, that could spark a very entertaining game.


This leads to really knowing the strength and nature of your friendships, both with the homeowner and the beastie owner. Good close friends will debate who fed their beastie which identifiable end-product: corn, Greenies, or underwear. Inevitably such sleuthing devolves from beastie diets into personal digestive discussions.

Scatological TMI at its most hilarious and vile. 

Friends with whom a certain level of civility and decorum form the bedrock of the relationship would not be amused. Matter of fact, they might be disinclined to permit my beastie in their home ever again. They might even ban me from their now tainted abode. As a recluse, this punishment isn't that devastating for me. Nay, nay. It could be considered incentive. Unfortunately, I have a weakness for free booze and food.

No in-home shitting on command.

Concern stems from the other beastie owner. Are they the sort who believes their furry companion is some sort of special snowflake who would never defile someone's home. These are also the same sort of people who don't curb their beasties because they have discovered the one shit-less breed. It is these owners who will always, always be the sad recipient of the very loud, very public announcement.

"Damn, Ethel, did Fluffy just shit your tampon string on the ivory damask couch?"

However, if the other beastie owner is normal about beastie's bodily functions, then I can be a true friend and police the presents without alerting the media.

Just be wary of flaming paper bags.


  1. LOL!!! I remember my sister bringing her beastie to my house...and said beastie left a present in my bedroom and I didn't see it. Yeah, barefoot and swearing at the top of my lungs. I think that particular beastie was scared of me the rest of his life.

    I can honestly say though, my beasties haven't done that at anyone else's house. Of course, I leave them at home because I know how impolite they are.

  2. None of my past beasties have ever done that to someone else's house. No, they saved that for our own home. I remember waking up one morning to a whole line of presents in the living room.
    That was not a very good day!

  3. Oh, Danica, that's simultaneously horrid and hilarious. Do you ever notice your beasties giving you the look, the one that says, "Aw, pretty please? I promise I'll be gooooood."

    LOL, Stacy! The dreaded Line of Presents. Those are the days the Lil Green Machine gets a workout!