A pet sitter helped take care of Abbs the last time I went to Florida. She was very thorough and even left me notes about each of her encounters with Abby, including a log of Abby’s BMs. Having a sense of humor at the level of a third grader, these diaries amused me greatly. I saved them (for my Christmas card newsletter) and recently shared them with my Dad. He suspected the pet sitter had ulterior motives for chronicling Abby’s poos, like some sort of fecal documentation fetish. I assured him that some pet owners would insist on knowing that information, so the pet sitter was just being detailed.
This morning, at my apartment with Abbs, my Dad sent me this e-mail:
Subject: Poopage report
This is an update on Abby’s bowel action. Around noon today, she went forth with glee into the frozen tundra area surrounding her domicile. After a quick pee and a number of sniffages, she pranced about in the area looking for a spot to release her business. Once her said business was complete, she told me she wanted to move back into her comfortable zone. No report will be given as to size, shape, or other characteristics of her bowel movement.