I have discovered something about my dogs’ arseholes recently.
In the few minutes before they’re going to do a turd, their arse stretches out and grows red, in a similar way to how a baby’s head crowns just before it gets delivered. I must confess I’ve only read about this latter phenomenon, as I’ve never actually been present at a normal vaginal delivery, in spite of its being a prerequisite before graduating as a doctor (shhhhhhh). (To be fair, at med school I followed my assigned heavily pregnant mother for weeks, attending various doctor’s appointments, and was there all through labour, but missed the actual delivery because the midwife got surprised by how quickly the baby was coming and sent me out to get some equipment at the vital moment. Thus it was that I was outside the room, staring at the supply trolley , trying to work out what “size six and a half sterile gloves” meant when bubs arrived precipitately on the scene. )
I’ve never noticed this particular poo related phenomenon before, so I’m guessing it’s some combination of light coloured hair and a particularly perky tail that makes it so visible. Is it handy? It allows me to get my poo bag ready in plenty of time, but mostly it’s only of use to me as an anecdote I might put into the book I’m writing, to add a little quirky colour.
In fact, I’m feeling a bit down on the whole idea of writing a novel at present. I mentioned a few weeks ago my published author acquaintance who can’t get anyone interested in her latest book. In addition, Simon’s friend who wrote an extremely clever and enjoyable crime novel* that I reviewed some months ago, has only managed to sell a couple of hundred copies of it. The sad reality is, I’m never going to write anything anywhere near as good. Why do I still persist with this blog, you may well ask? I suppose the truth is that it’s a hobby I enjoy, and that’s reason enough.
*A fly under the radar by William McCartney