Try Not to Bite Me Mr Poop

This is a Sad Story.  I just wanted to warn you up front.

This is a Picture of Mr Poop:

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This is a picture of him at the Starbucks in Key West.  He is quite a little celebrity.  So many people have taken pictures of him it’s not even funny.  He has always been such a well behaved dog, a pure charmer.  He used to belong to my Late Father.  My dad would take him all over on these long car rides every day.  They would go in my dad’s big Dodge 2500 and Poop would just sleep somewhere and make a fat mess, because that’s what he’s good at.  He has always been my dog though, since I had to help raise him, so we have been buddies since he was pretty much a little Mr Poop.  I remember picking him up from the Michigan State Animal Hospital where he was shipped in from Minnesota.  The girls at the pick up place were like, “he’s a little charmer!” and here was this little Mr Poop in his little kennel they shipped him in, and you could just see he was happy and playful!

After my father passed away I took good care of him, we have been so many places from living in the middle of the forest and off a lake in Michigan, to Detroit, to Key West, Miami, Chicago…  All of these places.  He’s been with me through so many girlfriends, like it seems like Ancient History, and it kind of is.  He’s 11 years old for an English Bulldog.  That is like Ancient.  I know some dog’s live to like 15 or whatever but bulldogs are a bundle of problems from day 1.  This guy had eye problems for a long time. We really did  our best to keep him in good vision but a couple of years ago his eyes started showing signs of going a little cloudy.  Of course it was gradual.  Over time I did my best to spoil him.  We went on walkabouts in the Keys – like Big Treks.  He eats like a king.  just today he had one of his favorite snacks, Chicken Skin off a roasted chicken.  Sometimes if I ran out of food and couldn’t get to the store what do you think he would get?  Probably something like 6 jumbo eggs cooked, cooled a little and then just dumped into his bowl.  Or maybe he would get a big bowl of pasta.

He’s been there through the good times and the bad.  He used to sleep with me all the time.  Until a few months ago, he started to change a little.  It was minor at first but it has gotten worse and worse over time.  One night he would just growl, usually only for a couple minutes, then he would be cool again.  Then it was happening every night; he would wander out towards my bed where I was sleeping and growl a little, then he would maybe walk back to his closet (he was always famous for commandeering closets or cubbyholes.  I would do my best to make sure he had at least some cave and in some cases these caves were HUGE!  I would go visit Poop in his “apartment” I would call it.) and go to sleep.  He used to be cute, and want to come sleep in my bed.  He would either do it, or for a short time I put my mattress up high on a frame and box-spring and he would come whine and whimper in the middle of the night until I woke up to pull him up into the bed..

Unfortunately that has changed.  I don’t hear the whine and whimper anymore.  While I have been writing this he has come into my room about 3 times.  2 of those times he would hear me call out to him and growl and then, once he got close enough to me, he would maybe snarl, lunge and snap to try and bite.  I’m a tiny scared but not really.  I more feel fucking SAD because, I think he has a combo problem of going blind and getting senile.  It’s like clockwork and it’s very fucking sad.  I can see him come looking for me.  In his mind, he wants to come see his buddy, me.  But then the fucking circuitry in his brain is misfiring.  He gets MEAN.  He trys to bite.  I can dodge him and feint and finally duck in with my hand to get to his face or under his chin, but it is not a fun, or easy task, and it does involve the possibility of getting bit.  I have been bit twice now.  When I get my hand under his chin or grab his collar or put my hand on top of his head or both my hands on the sides of his face, and I’m like, awww Mr Poop…  Then he chills out and becomes himself.

But now it’s just getting bad.  He is having these fits a lot.  But the fucking hard part about it is, I can see him in there still, his old self.  He still pops up.  It’s not fucking fair.  He doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, and sometimes I can see him realize he just had a fit and feel a little bad.  Just now he came into my room, and one minute he was trying to bite me, the next I was calming him down, but then the realization I have been having lately dawned upon me once again – that i’m going to have to put him to sleep – and I fucking cried.

And then he tried to cheer me up, by biting my nose (that’s play biting and it is SUPER easy to tell the difference) and I could see he felt empathy.  So he snaps back to being himself, quite a lot, and it makes it fucking hard!  I have to take him in to the fucking vets, my buddy of like 11 years, and have them inject him with poison that will kill him, and that’s fucking bullshit!  I am pretty much left with no choice.  I have actually pushed it out far, I keep hoping for a miracle.  I keep hoping something magical will happen and I will figure out a way to teach him to chill, but I really do think he is going senile.

I actually stopped dating over the last month or so because the last girl who spent the night here a couple time, got freaked out the last time she was here, because early in the morning Poop was growling, barking and sounding a lot like he wanted to kill someone, and he was in the other room in his kennel.  Try getting your groove on with a dog one room away sounding like he wants to murder someone.

He has cock-blocked me a couple times in the past.  One time I was getting ready to make out with this chick, and Poop was a couple feet away and all you heard was, “Pfffffttttttttt….” and it was Deadly.  He literally destroyed the room with that smell, and the mood was gone…  I think he did me a favor with that chick though so no big deal.  And he was my buddy so Cock-blocks were pretty much forgiven.

But with this last chick, well… She said, “I don’t feel comfortable being here.”  After that day, She didn’t want to hang out any more.  Ok, ya sure…  Who cares?  If she can’t handle my dog….  But at the same time, I wouldn’t expect any chick to be able to handle that.  Romantic moods are pretty much destroyed.  So just when I was getting on a little streak I decided to hang it up for a minute.  I’m not into dating to scare the shit out of chicks.

So the point is, I have to take him in.  I know he’s gonna be excited.  He’s always in a good mood when we go for walks.  He loves them.I took him in the car the other day to Starbucks and sat outside.  Twice he threw a fit right around this girl, but I was having a conversation with her and had already warned her…  Before that she was like, “Ohh noo..  This guy?” Because he was being a sweetheart.  But man, that fit just comes out of no where.

And that’s the point innit?  It’s hard to imagine him being all happy, being at the vets.  Surprisingly he has always LOVED the vets.  I took him in for an evaluation a month ago and the he was so well behaved the vets were like, “I don’t think he’s ready to be put down yet.” A phone call later after the appointment and once of the vets got to hear him in the background during one of his fits changed everything.

So it is a dilemma.  But his fits are gradually getting more dangerous.  I guess, as some people have talked to suggested, he could be in pain.  He could be suffering.  Maybe I need to come to terms with it.  The other way I can look at it, a possibility that occurred to me while writing this is, maybe it’s not so bad that he will be in a good mood when I got to put him to sleep.  Maybe that is 100 times better than if he died a miserable, angry, frenzied death where he was fighting and nashing.  No, maybe I can pet him, give him some chicken, hug him, scratch him under his jaw (his favorite place) and let him feel good as they inject him.  And then I’ll let him go on and see my dad.

I have a date tomorrow.  I made it on accident. lol  It was sort of spontaneous.  I think tomorrow, though, I may take him to the vets, and I’m not sure what kind of condition I will be for the date…  But I have been telling myself “Tomorrow” for over a month now…

He’s my fucking buddy, man.  This is going to be HARD!

 

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12 responses to “Try Not to Bite Me Mr Poop

  1. Pingback: Applicator Dog | Dog Grooming Supplies

  2. “I actually stopped dating over the last month or so because the last girl who spent the night here a couple time, got freaked out the last time she was here, because early in the morning Poop was growling, barking and sounding a lot like he wanted to kill someone, and he was in the other room in his kennel. Try getting your groove on with a dog one room away sounding like he wants to murder someone.”

    My ex girlfriend had to have her beloved staffie-cross put down. Her dog started having epileptic fits followed by behavioural changes. Random bursts of aggression out of nowhere.

  3. I am currently watching my 9 yr old black lab sleeping peacefully next to me. On her pink blanket. She is cute as a button. A 95 lb button. She was diagnosed with Spindle cell cancer 4 months ago. Had it removed at a cost of nearly $10k. Crazy, I know. Never thought I would be one of those ‘crazy pet owners’. But, she has made me one. She now has a mass on/near her liver. I cannot and will not do any more treatments though I love her dearly. I will miss her everyday. Every damn day. Dreading the decision that is coming soon. This week? Dreadful. Thanks for the story of Mr Poop. I can relate 100% as I love my ‘Shadow’ just as much as your love for your dear dog. Please update your story. Peace…..

    • I will update my story soon. I have had it mostly written for over a few months now. I really wish you blessings. These guys come into this world so innocent and loyal and they rely on us to be their guardians and it kinda sucks sometimes because not only do we get to share in giving them the love and joy and happiness they deserve but we also have to end up being the ones that make the hard decisions about their health and life when things get bad. . . It doesn’t seem fair and it’s the hardest decision to ever make. It’s terrible to have to do but then, still, we have to decide because these friends of ours cannot make the decisions for us. . .

  4. Thanks for the story. What’s the update?

    I am in the same dilemnia and can’t decide as of rght now. My 14 year old min pin hasn’t eaten for 4 days now and he is extremely weak. We forced baby food paste in him, but a few hours later, he puked it all out. He can barely walk/stand and it’s heart breaking to see him struggle to get a drink of water.

    Yesterday, the doctor adivised to uthanize him, but com on man!!! I had him since he was a week old the size of a gerbil. He is glued to me and I am glued to him!

    But all said and done, I know it has to be done………but when?

    • Guess what? The hard reality is this. . . These dogs rely on us for food, shelter, love, wellbeing and unfortunately death as well. It sucks but they are going to be loyal till the end. We always think it’s gonna be some fairytale ending but life doesn’t play that game. So basically when it’s time for them to go it’s up to us, not them, to pull the trigger. Otherwise, your best friends is gonna sit there and suffer. The question is are you now keeping him alive for his sake or for yours?

  5. Where r the links to the fucking pictures man?

    My Mr. Poop, aka The Clacker, died at 11 right under the kitchen table. Took him forever to die. I refused to pay the shysters for the injection.

    Took him down to the dog pound for a free incineration, stiff as a board and all bagged up in clear plastic. He had a nice slow, cool ride in the back of the pick-up. Upon arrive at the pound, I placed him on the desk of the bureaucrat, standing up on on all fours, a little flat on one side, and she had the audacity to tell me to put him on the ground instead. I left him lying there like so much refuse waiting for the crem dude to come get him. Poor Mr. Poop!

    Biting dogs would be my exception for the shyster rule.

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