I have a Wednesday dog. Her name is Coco (after Channel), and she is a (spelt phonetically 'cause I don't know how to spell her breed name, so sue me!) chit-zu. Her human mother works and gets worried that Coco is lonely when she's stuck at home.
Her mother told me, "Coco never does poohs inside. Only when you take her for walks. And only once a day. Don't worry about that."
So, I didn't worry about that. I took Coco out for a 10 a.m. walk. She poohed. We came home again, and I plonked down on the sofa to eat my lunch. Dr Phil was on telly, and I got involved with him (oooh, naughty!). Several times I saw Coco sitting with her nose to the front door, but I just mumbled "Later, baby, later." If I say the magic word "walk", she goes beserk. She'd walk me all day if she could.
Later, I went into my bedroom to change from slippers to trainers, ready to take her out again.
"Oh, nooooooo!!" She'd poohed on my day backpack - $40. And my bra - $25. Lesson to be learned: never throw your bra, with mad abandon, on the floor.
What could I do? I threw the bra and backpack away, and handed Coco over to mummy without mentioning the mishap.
I realised immediately what it was because the book had been on the floor under my bra.
The librarian reached for the book.
I had, like, a moment to think of a cover story. "My jar of mango chutney has broken! I was frantically wiping the book down with some pocket tissues. The librarian insisted on taking it from my hand. I stared dumbly as he walked away with the book. All the librarians were laughing heartily now, along with silly old me; all over my 'broken jar of chutney'.
I was billed $45 for the book because as the Cental Library librarian told me on a phone call, "we just can't clean the chutney off the book."
Oh, you naughty, playful, gorgeous, adorable little Coco. I could kill you .... but I won't. How about a huge cuddle instead, huh?