The Poop Nazi

I have earned a new title... Poop Nazi. Yes, that's me! So here's the scoop on the poop, ummmm, so to speak. The wife and I came home after getting the kids to the dance, and settled in for the wait. We were tired and knew better than to get too comfortable lest we fall asleep letting the children get away with staying out way later than allowed.

The puppy is still in the process of potty training (with an indoor pad because she is still too little to take outdoors). I sat down on the bed and was just about to sign on to Facebook when I saw the dog squat. The wife said "Uh oh" as a little kid would, and just watched her. Not me, I jumped off the bed and ran toward the 1 1/2 pound dog, scaring the sh*t out of her (literally), and chasing her through the bedroom. The wife could be heard in the background "She has sh*t on her backside..." I didn't care, I kept chasing her. I finally caught her as she was attempting to crawl under the bed. Well, as I'm sure you can imagine, the poop was no longer on her backside, but as luck would have it, it was still on her. :::ahem::: I took her into the restroom and verbally reprimanded her as she struggled to get away from me. I placed her on the pad and told her to "poo-poo potty." Yes, this is how I talk to my animals. Well, she could feel the poop on herself and was jumping backwards like a drunk rabbit. It was hilarious, but I finally grabbed her, washed her off, and tried to put her back on her pad. By this time I suppose she had lost the need to complete the task, so I gave up...  for the time being! I'm still walking around making sure she didn't slip one by me.