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Browsing Tag: rescue dog

Luck of the Irish, My You-Know-What

Yesterday, Cian said, “I have to go baf-room,” and before I had a chance to get over my shock (pride!), he came back out with a look of sheer guilt on his face. “Mom. Can you clean my poop?” His pants were still on. So, clean up we did. Major, major clean up. I should skip over the part where he struggled with me as I took off his pants, which made little chunks of poo rain around us onto the carpet like chocolate-covered balls of stink-infested hail, so I won’t share that. But I will tell you that as I got him dressed again, he looked at the floor in horror and pointed. “Mom! Dere’s more poop!” “No, there’s not, Cian,” I told him, and continued to tug at his pants. “No. MOM. Right dere. Dere’s POOP.” And lo and behold, he’d discovered a little chunk that had gotten smooshed in between my pant leg and the carpet. So, yay. Good day. Today, I overslept by, oh, 45 minutes, and had to rush the girls through…

The Luca Post

Note: I wrote this last Monday. Life since then has been…sad. Quiet. Very, very clean without the tumbleweeds of dog hair that used to appear on the hallway floor. Those of you who’ve lost beloved pets, I’m so sorry. They love us so much it’s hard not to love them back just as fiercely–and harder still to let them go when we need to. —————- The kids are all huddled around Luca right now. Saoirse hasn’t even changed out of her school uniform, and for the last hour they’ve been lying beside him, watching a video on my iPad. Saoirse’s been giving him hugs and kisses so often the dog’s sort of smooshed into the corner of the hallway now, loved to exhaustion. I told the girls this afternoon on the way home from school that we were going to have to put Luca down today. I said to Saoirse, who understands more, that Luca, who was already very old and rundown, had thrown up, collapsed (I said he fell) and lost control of his bladder. This isn…