AuburnChick's Adventures

Were you scared when you saw the title? And yet, here you are, continuing to read.

First of all, let’s be clear. The Metamucil was not for me. “Yeah, right,” you’re probably thinking to yourself. Trust me, there is no need for the stuff in AuburnChick’s household. We are, to put it bluntly, a family of poopers. Yep. We have that down pat.

The parents, Mr. AuburnChick, I mean, and myself, passed down this wonderful talent to our amazing children. We knew that they had gotten the pooping gene when our daughter, all of three days old, proceeded to poop — in an arc — over Mr. AuburnChick’s body in bed that first night. I was changing her, and, well, let’s just say it looked like a rocket had exploded. Dad just watched in fear as it went over his prone body. He puffed up with pride when he was sure it was safe to move. It was a sight to behold.

Wanna hear another story? Oh, wait, this is a story about Metamucil. So sorry…I got caught up in the memories…

Anyhow, here’s why (and who) I had to buy the stuff for.

The other day, I came home from work, eager to see my dear sweet dogs. That’s one thing that’s so wonderful about them. They are tremendously happy to see you when you arrive.

Well, I opened the door to let them in, and my sweet little Molly (pictured below) came in and plopped on the floor.

Huh? What’s this? This is not my Molly. She’s usually so happy to see us that her entire back end wags. Not that day.

So, a little worried, I call her to me. She takes two steps and lays down. Oh no. Now I’m worried, and I get ready to dial the vet. But first I have to inspect my baby. Are hips supposed to look like that? I haven’t a clue. I’m just a computer tech, and I don’t see an escape key anywhere.

Somehow, I think to lift her up and pull her waggy tail up.

Uh oh. I see something. I don’t think I’ll describe it. But, I had to — uh — get a paper towel and pull it out. She cried a little. I wanted to as well. I’m not exactly used to pulling stuff out of my dog’s behind.

Well, that fixed her. It was almost as good as putting a band-aid on a two year old. She unleashed her thankfulness by running all over the house.

Does the story end here. Of course not. This is AuburnChick’s blog, after all. I give you all the fun details of my life.

So, I decide to pick up the phone and call the vet anyhow. I haven’t talked to them in, hmmm, a couple of weeks? I’m like a neurotic parent of a newborn. I love my furry babies.

Ring, ring (do phones actually ring these days?)

“Hello, AuburnChick’s personal vet at your service.” (I’m exaggerating a little, of course)

“Hi, this is Aubie, Pele, and Molly’s mommy. Do dogs get constipated.” (Imagine that, I get right to the point!)

“Uh, ok, uh, sure. Let me ask the vet about this.” She puts me on hold.

Is she laughing? Probably. I can picture the entire office making fun of me. I should charge them a fee for entertaining them.

She comes back on the phone and assures me that it’s normal, and to buy my baby some Metamucil.

“As in old people Metamucil?” I exclaim.

Yep, that’s it.

You mean that I have to go to the store and have people watch me buy it? Uh oh.

What’s the big deal, you ask? Well, at times like this, I forget that I’m 30-something and regress to the teenage years where buying stuff like — well, you know — is plain old embarrassing. This coming from the woman who loves to do Shakira impressions in public in front of my daughter. Regardless, I put it off for a day.

The next day I ease into Target. I really do not want people to think that I’m buying this for me. I’m the Queen Pooper who’s given birth to Princess and Prince Pooper. I want to shout all through the aisles:

“I DO NOT HAVE A PROBLEM POOPING!”

Mercifully, I don’t do this and discreetly take my item to the cashier, pay for it, and hurry out to my car.

Oh, and for those of you who have a little trouble “going,” I hope you haven’t taken offense. It’s just that we poopers are a proud bunch. It’s probably good to humbled every now and then.

Filed under: Pets | Tagged: metamucil, Pets |