My Facebook status read, " I didn't ever care to know what would happen if a piece of dog poo fell from about 3 feet in the air and hit a shoe in mid-stride as one hustled a dog outside. But I know now...and I really truly could have lived a rich, full life without that knowledge!" TMI? Maybe. Graphic? Not as graphic as I could have gone. However, as I explained further down in the comments from that status, the answer is that what happens is that the poo explodes into a thousand jillion little poopie pieces. Okay, so that was a little graphic. Be glad there is not Smell in your computer screen. Words CANNOT describe.
We are, as you probably guessed, trying to potty train the dog. Success is limited at best. I'm starting to feel that I need to edit the Borg tagline so it reads, "Success is futile." How many times have I caught that dog mid-squat and ran him out the door only to have him run around the yard for the next hour with no deposits? Well, no deposits until he comes inside and there, "Hoot, there it is!"
I am determined, however, to win the Battle of Poo. I am a worthy opponent, as this Yorkie Terrorist that we have brought into our family will so realize. Everyone in my family already knows, and soon so shall he...I always win.
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