More Bad Dog Stories…and the Hazards of Single Living

So in the interest of illustrating the full possible gamut of bad dog behavior, let’s examine this one:  getting in the trash. 

On Sunday, well technically Saturday night, the Beast did so, and I initially could not understand the reason for it whatsoever, because there was no food in it…as far as I could recall (try remembering exactly what you put in the trash).  But I was wrong.  There were two rotten bananas in it.  They were neatly tied up in a plastic grocery bag. 

Upon first opening the door Sunday morning, I discovered the bananas on the step outside the back door, minus the plastic bag.  My guess is that the bananas were too disgusting even for the Beast, and in a fit of rage, he ate the plastic bag instead. 

The houseflies had called a convention about it.  Wait…we interrupt this regularly scheduled programming for an important technical question.  Can they be called “houseflies” if they are outside the house?  (Hum the Jeopardy! theme and grab a beer while Fakename Googles.) 

Done.  And I can guarantee you that you don’t want to know this stuff about Musca Domestica, but on the other hand you’re probably a glutton for punishment because otherwise you probably wouldn’t be reading this blog. 

Anyway, it seems they are houseflies no matter where they are, and in my case, entire clans spanning many generations had gathered on the step just outside my back door.  In the interests of science, I decided to leave the bananas there to see how long it would take the flies to devour them.   Kind of a CSI thing.  That, and the fact that there is no reward great enough in this life or the next that would induce me to touch them. 

So we have kind of a banana body farm.  Day 2:  The bananas had moved off the step onto the patio.  I personally think the flies did an airlift.  I do live in a very wooded area with a lot of wildlife, but I’ve never spotted any that I know to be particularly attracted to bananas.  (Other than me, but I just didn’t get around to them in time.)

Since Sunday morning it’s rained twice, so I’m sure you can imagine just how bad this has become.  In fact, it’s reached the level where I really, really need to Do Something. 

This is where the rubber of living alone, with all its joys and independence, meets the road.  When you live alone, you never have the eekamouse option.  No one but you will remove the giant spiders/giant beetles with the horrible scary fuzzy antenna/rotten bananas.  OR…you can sing lalalala and put your fingers in your ears–which blocks all that buzzing. 

Now however, we are at the point where neither the dogs or the cat, or me, want to go outside, because we have to pass by the body farm.  Since we have to do it anyway (them to pee, me to go to work) we do it anyway, but then we don’t want to come back in either.  We are getting hoarse from the lalalas. 

So as I said, now it’s Do Something time.  My plan is to use a broom to sweep the body farm into the yard, where it will become part of the universe and fertilize the weed farm.  Then burn the broom.


10 responses to “More Bad Dog Stories…and the Hazards of Single Living

  1. Let this be a lesson to you about the value, or lack thereof, in procrastination!

    I suppose, since your household lacks a male with opposable thumbs, you have no collection of tools including a shovel, which I think would be the ideal rotten banana removal vehicle.

    Not being a power tool, it has less attraction for collection but a certain utility nonetheless. Ours has been used to scoop an adult possum, playing dead successfully in the face of a determined attack by the Scotties, from under the shed. Tossed unceremoniously over the fence – kerTHUMP. Whereupon it stood up and trotted off quite spryly.

  2. > Tossed unceremoniously over the fence –
    > kerTHUMP.

    Good thing you don’t live here..that’s a chargeable offense. A co-worker was cited for “cruelty to animals” when he mentioned that after attempting to gas a possum, it came back to life and so he had to use a baseball bat to finish the job off. He was reported by some misfit and fined.

  3. Whoa…!! On Fakename’s Animal Planet, we don’t allow baseball bats. Or gas, for that matter. We prefer relocation (i.e., Fakesister’s method) and in desperate situations, we do allow shooting.

  4. No shooting within (mumblemumble) feet of a residence or road!

    Relocating by tossing over the fence is surely preferable to slow death by a jillion nips?

  5. Funny you should mention that Fakesister, there was an incident here in recent memory where a guy got in trouble for shooting a deer in his driveway; he may even have gone to jail for it. You remember this spencercourt? On top of shooting it in the driveway, he did it after dark, which who knew, is against the law.
    By a jillion nips I assume you are referring to the Fakesister bad do…uh, the adorable Scottie?

  6. At the time of the possum incident, there were two of the adorable Scotties assisting one another in annoying the wildlife. And the eardrums of any being within the surrounding (suburban) countryside.

  7. I’m glad there is one person in this family with a brain…I actually DO have a shovel (being a recovering gardener) AND I even know where it is.
    As it turns out, the flies have now abandoned the bananas. CSI report: took 4 days.

  8. It occurs to me that an item has to smell really bad to not be worth rolling in, for a dog.

    Do you now get maggots instead of the egg-laying cycle of the fly? Or are the bananas so far gone that there’s nothing left even for maggots to eat?

  9. Funny you should ask that question about maggots. I have some fears in that regard, but the peels haven’t moved again, nor are they moving. I don’t think maggots are that picky…I think the peels would be just fine for them, but I don’t see any from the distance I’m willing to observe them from. Perhaps tomorrow we will work up the collective household courage to do CSI experiment Part 2.

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