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The Log Days of Summer...
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The Log Days of Summer...

Question of the Day: Is there a dignified way to extricate a turd that's fused to your dog's ass-hairs, while he's yelping every time you tug on it and desperately trying to bite it off himself?

Answer of the Day: Nope.

To better illustrate the futility of such a task, let me relate it to you with a timely summer metaphor...

Imagine you're at the state fair, snacking on a delicious salted nut roll. While the salt is helping to replenish the precious electrolytes you've lost touring the sweltering fair grounds, you now crave something sweeter. You spy a cotton candy vendor and sidle up to the cart to watch a fresh batch being flossed into existence. As you peer into the giant silver reservoir, you lose your grip on your now-sweaty nut log and watch it tumble, headlong into the spinning candy webbery. By the time the vendor shuts off the machine, your nut-studded nugget is interwoven in a dense plexus of sticky candy reticula. Any attempt to remove the bolus from the hive's center will result in the vicious tearing of the delicate sugar-lattice and render both delicious treats completely inedible.

Such was my dilemma. (Although my goal was not to eat the dog's turd or ass-hairs, so i guess that's where the comparison falls apart.) So how did I resolve this doo-doo dilemma? I chased him around the backyard, hoping his spirited loping would help knock hunks of the fastened feces off his fanny, which it actually did, a bit. Then I got the hose out, switched the nozzle to "crappé" and blasted the remaining bits to kingdung come.

Mission Asscomplished.