It’s Princess Poopa Scoopa to you …

Last week I did something I never, ever thought that I would do … well, not without someone nagging me about it for a few hours first.  Last week, I picked up dog poo.  And not just one or two, but about 20 (yes, I know it’s absolutely atrocious that there were that many on the lawn to begin with, but it’s been a bit of a stand off between Mr W. and I).

One day last week, I was hanging out the washing and I was overcome by the stench of dog poo.  Looking over to our small lawn I noticed that no one (and by no one I mean Mr W.) had picked up after the furry kids for a while.  Poor things, they were running out of room and fast.

And so, I decided there was only one thing for it.  I was going to have to do it.  Mr W. watched me walk into our bedroom and when I came out he nearly wet himself from laughing.  I had found a scarf and tied it around my face, covering my nose.  I looked like the New Housewife of Abu Dahbi gone wrong lol.

But out to the lawn I went, poopa scoopa in hand (a very thoughtful present from my dear mum).  I reckon I got through about half when I came to a particularly fresh one.  I normally have a pretty strong stomach, but that really got me, even through my stylish pooper scooping attire.  I started to dry reach … and that my friends, is where my poopa scooping adventure ended.

I politely told Mr W. that I just couldn’t do it.  It would have to officially be his job from now on.  Afterall, I feed and water the dogs, as well as take them for walks (ocassionally) it’s only fitting that he should perform such an important role in their upbringing.

Princess Poopa Scoopa xx

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It’s black … it’s white …

I’ve never been much of a dog lover … in fact I hate most dogs … mainly due to a number of traumatic dog related experiences as a child.  Firstly there was my Uncle’s dog that bit me when I stepped on his foot to reach out for a bowl of ice cream (come on I was only 6) … and then when I was 15 our next door neighbour’s dog ate my Tokinese kitten.  And then there’s the fact that when I left home at 17 to go to uni my parents bought a Jack Russell crossed with a poodle (no I’m not giving that breed a capital letter) and named it Ben after a certain West Coast Eagles player.  I still hate that dog … call it sibling rivalry, he’s like the grandchild they never had!

So, knowing all this, you can imagine the laughs I got when everyone found out that I was moving to Newman with Mr W. … and his two dogs … rendering me “step mum”.

These two dogs, let’s call them “Black Dog” and “White Dog” to protect their identites (lol) are both Staffies … Black Dog is a girl and White Dog is a boy.  Sounds like it could be romantic.  It’s not.

those who shall remain nameless ...

My mother in particular thought it hillarious that upon meeting the dogs for the first time I bought them Schmakos and rolled around on the floor and played with them.  Awwhhhh the things you do for love.   It was my mother who also stated she would love to see me pick up after the little poppets, but, you know that a girl will do anything to impress a good looking man.  Well, that and my mother bought me a pooper scooper.  God bless her and her wacky sense of humour.

Well, after a good month, me and the dogs have developed quite a good relationship.  If they don’t annoy me too much I take them for a walk.  I even remember to feed them most nights.  Actually, I have to admit … they really have worked their way into my heart.  I actually look forward to being woken up with White Dogs tongue all over my face (I’m sure you noticed it in the photo).  Sometimes I even let them sleep on the end of the bed if Mr W. goes to work early and I haven’t quite gotten up.  And I can’t help but cuddle up with them on the couch while I’m watching telly … that is if they’re not all snuggled up with Mr W … and this bring us to a real bone of contention with me at the moment.  I just can’t get used to the fact that the dogs get more cuddles than me.

Mr W. says to me that he is just not a cuddly, touchy feely kind of guy … he likes his own space.  Meanwhile he is curled up on the couch with black dog on one side and white dog on the other.  Seriously, sometimes I wish I could grow fur.  Especially when he tells black dog what a beautiful girl she is.  Come on, my coat is shiny too!!!  I really thought Black Dog and I would be, well you know, best girlfriends … but gee whiz … she gets more compliments than I do.  Maybe White Dog and I have more in common that I first realised.  He is a very jealous dog … if Black Dog is getting attention then he wants in on it … perhaps we really aren’t that different.

Actually, Mr W. has even admitted that there are 3 spots in his world … and I’m second*.  The dogs are equal first.  And due to the fact that I was so dumbfounded about coming second, I can’t for the life of me remember what or who came third … beer perhaps?

pp xx

* Upon showing this piece to Mr W. he has moved me to Number 1.  The dogs are number 2 and 3 … depending on who has dug up the garden on said day (yesterday they both dug a hole … tough choice).  Hmmmm does he think this makes up for his Tuesday night near death experience?  Honey, if you’re reading … it doesn’t.  You’ll have to go just that little bit further.