I warn you now: I’m about to talk about poo. I’ll notate when it’s over.
We’ve come to the conclusion that Little Miss Mellie (who is going back to the RVSPCA today as her foster-time is ending and she is officially old enough to be adopted) has superglue in her intestines. Not literally, but in some form, she has this super-poo.
In a way, I think all puppies have acquired this Super-Poo before going on to leave just stinky-poo and (thankfully) the rare case of “Ohmygods, did you explode?!”
Maybe it’s that whole Pittie Puppy thing going on where whatever is in their crate, they have to play with it. And if it’s poo, they will hop on it, roll on it, eat it (yes I have caught Mellie snuffling about eating dried poo that she dug out from under the crate while I was cleaning). Maybe it’s the mix of shelter-provided puppy food mixed with whatever form of plastic the crate-bottoms are, but holy fucking cow man. It is hard as hell getting it off.
We had old towels, old clothes that we were not comfortable donating (the beyond repairable, it should be a cleaning rag kind of clothing that we had in a box in our closet and had no idea what to do with besides give it to the rats), and she took a sheet-top (the sheet without the elastic in it). All had to be thrown out due to the copious amounts of ingrained puppy poo that even after knocking off into the backyard the washer couldn’t get this stuff out.
We’ve had to take her crate bottom outside no less than three times to spray it off. It was like the opposite of the defense mechanism of eating it, it was like saying “here’s my poo, this is mine.”
[end poo…tangent. thing]
We enjoy fostering and now there’ll be a little more of a reason why we try to go for the older dogs: less cleaning up. That and it’s not as easy to step on them and push them out of the way while you’re walking in that “oh, puppy stomach on the foot, fling/slide” that happens early in the morning. It’s fun having small puppies, but it’s good to see that she’s now old enough to be put up for adoption. I’ll miss the little squealer.
I still firmly believe that whomever bred her mom needs to be whacked upside the head and in the groin area, especially for taking pups basically right after their eyes opened. We know one’s survived definitely (Mellie), but I hate to think what’s happened to the others. Mellie has been, in every essence, a pittie puppy. She’s wiggly, she’s hoppy, whiney, talks-back, great listener, will follow you to the ends of the Earth and back, loves scritches, loves being held, is becoming a couch potato while firmly believing that everyone, and everything, is her friend. Even Langley, who really does not like her (he’s become so ornery lately)
I’m thinking that maybe the next dog we foster, we’ll try to see if we can foster Meathead if he’d be ok to be in a home with four other dogs. I like Meathead, he’s an adorable guy who we met when we took Leanna back (I miss Leanna, she was a good dog)