last tuesday night, i hopped into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin.
the sheets get a little messy during the day, what with atlas hopping on and off and on and off the bed, so i used my hands to smooth them out around me.
i felt something hard and round.
i squeezed the hard round thing between my fingers. it was cold (and hard and round) so i figured it was a rock. i wondered why there was a not particularly tiny rock in my bed, but i got out of bed so i could throw it away.
it was not a rock.
it was a hard round cold ball of dog poop.
that is the first thing people do not tell you about having a dog.
the second thing people do not tell you about having a dog is that after years of living with one, this won't even phase you.
you will look rather bemusedly at it (why exactly is there dog poop in my bed? how did it get under my covers?), chuckle at the dog and tell him he's a silly goose, and carry the poop into the bathroom and throw it in the garbage.
then, you will wash your hands three times and go back to bed.
in the morning, you'll wash your bedding, though in all honesty, you won't be sure whether you aren't only washing it because washing the bedding was already on your list of things to do on wednesday.
seriously.
if i were going to write a dog book, this is the dog book i'd want to write: "the things no one tells you about having a dog (& if they did, you wouldn't believe them anyway)".
