I am sure that a lot of ya’ll have those stories from your youth that will just never go away. You know those stories, the ones that are completely embarrassing and no matter how many years have passed your friends and/or family always bring it up like it was just yesterday. I have a few of those stories from my past and here is one of them.
It was sometime in the late 70s if I am remembering correctly. I am pretty sure that I wasn’t yet even in school. During the summer months we would escape the industrialized neighborhoods of the city that we lived in and head to the more suburban area of my aunt and uncle’s (actually they are my mom’s aunt and uncle), Don & Dot. Don and Dot had a pool in their backyard and would frequently have family get-togethers that consisted of swimming, cooking out and drinking.
They had a nice patio area and a pool house. They also had a couple of poodles; one white, one black. I know that I will get this wrong but I think the white one was called Pepe (Peh’ Pee). This pooch will figure heavily in my story.
One summer weekend day the entire family was over at Dot & Don’s doing the swimming-bbq thing. All of a sudden I realized that I needed to use the bathroom and bad! I went into the pool house but found the changing room/bathroom to be occupied. Now it was universally know that if you were wet as I was, you did not enter the big house for any reason, not even to use the bathroom. Now my 4-5 year old self really, really had to poop!
I walked up to my aunt and told her that I really had to use the bathroom but someone was already in there. I was fully expecting to be told that I could, as a one time exception, track into the house and poop in convenience and comfort. Boy was I wrong. She told me to go behind the pool house. What I failed to mention to her, in order to keep my privacy, was that I did not have to go #1.
I quick-stepped behind the pool house and strode carefully between all of the pine trees, shuffling my bare feet among the old fallen pine needles. Unbeknownst to me, Pepe the poodle was following me out of what I can only assume was curiosity. Sheepishly I looked around to ensure that no one was looking, I dropped my bathing suit, squated and let go with my bowels.
Unfortunately for everyone, Pepe’s curiosity got the better of him. Not only did he feel the need to watch me but to sneak up and probably sniff my behind as I was in full squat. This left him vulnerable to “falling bombs”. One “bomb” would garner a direct hit on him. I pooped on his head! I am sure that the utter disgust of the poop on his forehead and face shocked him. He did his best to roll in the pine needles to attempt a poop removal. All this did, however, was cake on old pine needles onto the top of the poop pile that was now being spread and deeply ingrained into his fur.
I must admit that this is hilarious and also that I do not have an inclination as to what I may have used that day for toilet paper. I was only a young lad you know. I do know that on that day and everyday since then that I see my aunt she sure is angry about it all. Of course she ends up laughing it off eventually but one would think that after 30 years I could get over crapping on her poor dog’s head. I can still remember (and my family can imitate) the loud squeals of anger and disgust she bellowed out that day. I think we may have even started calling the poor pooch “Poopy” instead of “Pepe” but I may be incorrect on that fact.
