I’ve got the dogsh*t blues…

I noticed the pee first, a tacky-looking, glossy patch on the hall floor, just where the Christmas tree was.


My under-caffeinated brain was wondering whether the dog could have been pee-ing on the Christmas tree all through the fairy-lit season when the smell accosted me. It was, literally, a wall of foul air hitting me in the face. I recoiled in despair.


I recall meeting a friend for coffee one Tuesday morning about two years ago. At the time, my friend had a young dog and I had never needed to clean worse than a goldfish bowl.


Friend wept hot tears of frustration into her cafe latte. Her plight? Well, the sad fact was that her mental well-being and her immaculate white tiles were being repeatedly sullied by dog diarrhoea.


I certainly sympathised but I did wonder if it could really be bad enough to cause a nervous breakdown. Afterall, we were two fairly gutsy women with nine children between us.  We had wiped up a fair share of sh*t in our time.


Tragically (for me), I didn’t understand. I didn’t have the picture in my head of forty or fifty (yes! seriously!) discreet little splodges of dogsh*t trailing across the hall, neatly squidged into the gap at the door saddle, rolled by the brass feet of the coffee table and paw-printed all the way under the kitchen table to the brand new doormat at the back door.


I didn’t know that dogsh*t crusts like a diabolical loaf so that the worst of the smell is contained within the soft interior, waiting patiently, to explode in the face of the poor unfortunate who tries to move it.

I didn’t know how gag-inducing that smell is, how it makes your head ache and somehow sticks in your nose for half a day.

I didn’t know that dogsh*t forms an almost irreversible chemical bond with hardwood floors, the strength of this bond being directly proportional to the size of the bank loan you took out in order to purchase said floor.

I didn’t know that I would need a further bank loan to keep up the supply of Vileda supermops.

Is dog diarrhoea enough to send you wailing to the closest madhouse, begging for a (clean) padded cell and a whiff of Jeyes fluid? Yes, I tell you, YES!!!!


I didn’t know that you shouldn’t give a Cockapoo the bone from your roast lamb dinner.

Well friends,

I know now.

PS. White rose, camelias and viburnum all flowering now in my garden, where the dog is.


24 thoughts on “I’ve got the dogsh*t blues…

  1. I feel your pain. Our dog had an ‘incident’ last year and that almost led to divorce, such was the stress induced by cleaning up said incident. And the smell… Don’t get me started. My heartfelt sympathy. xx

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I could smell your flowers from here and choose not to smell the Christmas plight of your pup!!! And the garden sounds like a wonderful place for a dog…..sorry you had to finish your holidays with that little mess….my sister had a puppy who mistook Christmas presents as peeing pads….needless to say it was a mess!!! I made the mistake, only once mind you, to put the Christmas tree in a huge bucket of sand….well I had cats….do I need to say anymore….LOL at first I thought the tree was rotting….nope!!! not the tree….LOL Glad to be back on here my friend and I can’t wait to see what spring does to your yard…..its beautiful during all the seasons….but there is something magical about spring…..XXkat

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m so glad you could smell the flowers because my head is still reeking of shite!
      I guess these are the under-advertised aspects of pet ownership!
      Your place is looking good…don’t work too hard.


  3. Oh dear. I really sympathise with you on this one. We’ve not had a dog throughout our married life, despite haviny every other kind of pet you could imagine. With na houseful of children, a dog just seemed too much to take on, and would cause too much hassle when we went away – and we’ve always visited family a lot. I know I’d feel exactly the same about the stench as you do. I hope – somehow – you’ve managed to get rid of it by now (the stink, I mean, not the dog!). Lots of beautifully scented flowers may work – like those gorgeous ones you’ve shown on this post. Are they really from your garden. How great is that! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I know just what you mean …… years ago our cocker spaniel slept in my sewing room. One morning I opened the door to find she had left a copious deposit behind it, which was smeared all over my beautiful brand new pale silver carpet!! And have you ever tried to clean sh*t off the bottom edge of a door??!!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. snorts. sorry, it’s too easy to laugh at someone else’s misfortune.
      oh dear, I haven’t but I should probably go check my own. Then again, how would I even do that?


  5. How about worms that have been spontaneously expelled from dog’s bottom and are still curling up a little bit as they fall to the floor? And they freak out the dog, so he runs all over the house, shaking himself, with said worms hanging off the back-end. This will then inspire your 8 year old to comment, as a dinner guest at a fancy grandma’s house (not her own), that “these spaghetti look just like Milo’s worms”. So next year, she’s probably not invited back to breakfast with Santa and Mrs. Claus.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Eeek, poor Milo, I’d be running around and shaking myself too.
      Haven’t had to deal with worms yet but I’ll be living in fear now.
      Hanging off the back-end? You need to write a book just for that line.


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