We are walking the dogs along the beach and I notice that one seems to have something stuck to his behind. He has been in and out of the water, so I figure it is just some seaweed. The white version of seaweed keeps poking its ugly head from my dog’s ass and we argue about whom should take a closer look. Being Mommy and well versed in things coming out of asses and removing them, I lose the argument. The last time the dog barfed on the carpet during Thanksgiving dinner, I picked it up as our friend commented, “Thank God there is a Mommy here, no one else would pick that up”.
I raised the dogs tail while threatening his life if he moves. I realize that the protruding object is a Tampon. A used tampon, eaten, and digested that is trying to free itself from his ass. This is too vulgar to imagine and yet it is there in front of my eyes. I can imagine the dog stepping on the garbage can peddle to poach this thrown away delight. I have to breath deep not to vomit in my mouth.
I explain what it is to my husband and another argument launches about whose responsibility it is to remove the cotton soak gross thing from our dog’s butt, as it clearly is not leaving of its own accord as he has been running down the beach in and out of the waves for an hour.
An environmental argument also erupts on how to dispose of the disgusting anal blockage once I have achieved my goal. I finally corral the dog and remove the third-time-used offender into a plastic bag.
This story is too gross to share with anyone, though I get great pleasure from doing just that when unsuspecting clients ask me how my weekend was.