Poop Diary

Today I am writing about poop.  Yes, poop.  Turds and stuff.
It's not my fault. 
An employee and I were talking about our pets.  I was pleased that my less than intelligent dog seemed to be learning the rule of not pooping in the house.  It's been a struggle, requiring the use of treats as a reward for doing the deed outside.

Anyway, as this conversation progressed, we got into the category of cat poop.  I remarked that Sir, my extra-large tomcat, shits er, poops dog turds.  She understood having had a large cat of her own once.

And Herself, Cat, Mistress of All, poops little dry pebbles of poo easily swept up if she chooses other than the litter box.  Not that she would.  Often.  This elicited an "aw" of sympathy for the trouble it must be to pop those dry pellets out.

Then, there is Wee, who in perfect accord with cat mythology, leaves in her litter, perfectly formed little tootsie rolls.  Which the dog never, ahem, attempts to eat. (Did I mention my dog is less than intelligent?) 

We then look at each other a moment.

We are talking about pet poop.

As though this is an important aspect of our lives.

That we can tell which pet is which by poop.


We need affirmation that we are not alone. 

Please.

If I Was a Hoarder...

I wrote for prompt #2 If I was a hoarder...








If I was hoarder, what would I hoard?

That's hard, because I'm not a hoarder.

Oh, I have several dozen bandannas. In different patterns and colors. But they fit into two small dresser drawers.  And they have a function. I wear them, one at a time if course, at work.

I have a rather hefty yarn stash.  For projects I'm going to do someday.  Those people that gave it to me were just going to throw it away!  That?  Would be wasteful.

I stopped saving glass jars and margarine tubs a long time ago. I didn't have room for my teapot collection, so they just had to go.

And doesn't everyone have a dozen, or so, Christmas trees?  They all need lights and ornaments. And matching tree skirts.  And the three dozen nutcrackers were inherited from my mother. And the acrylic Christmas decorations from Avon are so pretty. And the Christmas carol singing mice started with my dad.

And the husband is putting a floor in the huge attic for storage.  So we can have the guest bedroom again.


So, since I'm not a hoarder, I just can't think of anything I'd hoard.