Our littlest doggie, Georgie, has a detestable little habit of defecating in the dining room. She was a rescue that had been picked off the streets of Philadelphia, which is what we blame this particular nuisance on. IT’S NOT OUR FAULT!
Anyway, the dining room is where she poops. Luckily the, um, released elements tend to be well-formed little marbles all in a neat little pile. We pick them up, dispose of them, and that’s that until the next day.
Lately, though, those little piles have disappeared. There are now little brown marbles all over the dining room floor, on account of how our newish puppy, a 5-month-old, 36-pound golden retriever named Lola, likes to play with them.
Enter our little granddaughter, age 2½, who calls me Pepe, an homage to my own grandfather. This little girl loves to help. Her latest assistance has been coming in the form of letting me know when there are little marbles on the floor.
“Pepe, I see POOOP!”
That’s my cue to grab a couple paper towels, head into the dining room, and let her guide me to said poops.
“Thank you, sweetie, you’re the best Poop Watcher ever!”
“Hhh-yuhhh!” she says, as if, you know, of course she is.
I’m not sure she’ll brag about this little gift she has, the ability to spot little poopies, when she gets older, but she sure is proud of it now. And I just love her for it.
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