Dog Responds to "Mystery Poo" False Accusation

First, please excuse my limited vocabulary. My name is Sydney, and I’m an Australian Shepard mixed breed.  

I know, I know; it’s a bit cliché, a dog writing a blog. But if there’s anywhere tired clichés are allowed, it’s on Ruddy Bits blog, correct? Zing.

Yeah, you guessed it. I’m pissed. And I have a right to be.

A few days ago, my owners falsely accused me of defecating on their bed. To make matters worse, they did so publicly. Okay, “publicly” may be overstatement. I mean how many of you humans actually read this thing anyway? Three? Maybe four on good day?

I've got one word for you people: Innocent!

Still, there was certainly an attempt to shame me and my kind with the story of what happened, now dubbed the “Poo Mystery.” All this little story really did was play into anti-dog stereotypes -- the kind that make my blood boil. Deep breath.

 

It’s true they don’t teach us much at obedience school. Sit, and Stay, and Heel, of course, which I never quite understood. “Heel?” The word just makes no sense. And, yes, I am a graduate of said school. Top of my class, ruffly.  (Sorry, dog joke). But I did learn a lot there -- among other things, I learned not to POOP ON BEDS!

 

In case you're wondering, there is another pet in our house who has yet to go to any type of school, obedience or otherwise. Can you guess which one? I’ll give you a hint. She’s “cute” and “so cuddly,” and everyone just fawns all over her.

 

Need another hint?

Here’s one: It’s the animal who, just four days after I was falsely accused, actually pooped on the bed again, this time with witnesses. That's right. As one of our owners slept in this past Saturday, the little brat scratched a few times at the comforter, and then proceeded to drop one. It happened right before their eyes, right in the same spot as last time. Yet, this time, there was no mystery. The kitten did it. 

Apparently, the door to the room holding her litter box was closed. Of course, they made up excuses for her almost immediately.   

 

Was I exonerated? Completely. 

 

But am I angry? You bet.

 

When the first poop happened, did anyone think for one second the cute, cuddly little kitten could produce such a huge pile of crap? No. It didn’t even cross their minds.

 

Once they determined it wasn’t the kids, because none had poop in their pants – giving new meaning to the phrase “No shit, Sherlock” – who did they immediately blame?

 

That’s right: the Dog. A.k.a., me.

 

Sure, it's always the dog, isn't it?

 

Well, guess what. 

 

I. Didn't. Do. It.

 

And now that the Mystery of the Poo has been officially solved, I’d like to clear up a few other things.

First of all, I’m not that old. I’m only twelve. And don’t give me that dog years crap. Last time I checked, 12 years is 12 years – unless we’re talking about a disruption in the space-time continuum. Sorry. We watch a lot of old Star Trek episodes in our house. They think I’m just sitting there. But I’m listening. ... I’m always listening.

Second, I’ve been around long enough to know that if you really have to barf or poop, and you can't make it outside, you need to get to the hardwoods. C’mon, people. How many times have we discussed this? Remember when I used to have bilious vomiting syndrome? “Not on the carpet!” You must’ve said it a thousand times. Well guess what, I got it. Maybe it's because us dogs aren't so dumb after all.

 

And another thing, I don’t “always need a bath,” as was blurted more than once that fateful night. So next time you wake me in the middle of the night to accuse me of having an accident and decide to shove me into a cold tub, you better be certain.

 

While we’re on the subject, I have a general bone to pick.

 

When I first joined this family, I was all you guys had. I was everything. Then the first kid came along. Sure, it was an adjustment. I missed the attention, but I managed.

Then the second kid showed up. Then the third. Then the boy. It’s a lot to ask someone to go from top dog to 5^th place. Again, I accepted it. 

 

Just feed me. Let me go outside. Take me on the occasional walk. I'm fine.

 

But then, you had to go get a kitten. Talk about rubbing my nose in it.

 

I mean, really, a cat? Argh. And she hasn’t even been to obedience school. She walks around all aloof, all over the counters, and everyone thinks she's frigging wonderful.

"Mystery Poo" Caper Solved, Cat in Custody

Hate to burst your bubble, but she is not wonderful. She's awful, and disrespectful, and apparently not even fully trained.

 

So, now it’s out there. All of it. I’ve been vindicated. And the cat has been publically shamed -- well, sort of publically.

 

I just hope you remember this, and the next time someone poops where they’re not supposed to, you put the blame where it belongs: On that cute, cuddly, good-for-nothing cat.

 

In summation: Dogs rule, Cats drool.

 

Now, could someone let me out. I need to be alone.

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