Saturday, 22 March 2008
Glories of the canine gastrointestinal system
I'm Eastering in Bright, land of the long white parent: also land of the infested water supply. Noone's pointed the public finger at any one pathogen, but we've been advised to boil all potables thrice and filter to taste. Wilbur, alas, has been remiss in his water boiling - regularly drinking pure undiluted river - and the result is a case of galloping poo. Galloping poo in (and out of) a dog who spends the better part of each day lounging around on people's beds is a many-splendoured thing. You can imagine for yourselves just how splendoured. Suffice to say that Wilbur, normally an ardent partaker in Clan Harlot's gluttonies, has been forced without consultation or consent onto a restricted diet. He is, at this moment, lying in front of the fridge with one eye open.
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3 comments:
This is the sort of domestic detail about the family beasties my mother would absolutely kill me for disclosing to "outsiders". Indeed, they must never know what may or may not have happened to the chair upon which they sit or the patch of floor upon which they stand. No one must know that we live like that!
But perhaps you're not as bourgeois as we are.
(He's sitting in front of the fridge? Gosh, I've only known a dog to patrol the vicinity of the pantry cupboard!).
Now there's a research project: is there a correlation between reluctance to disclose details of domestic dog excretia and other indicators of bourgeoisity?
I find that most indicators of bourgeosity are centred upon "having people over", so it's a good starting point.
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