Sparky took a dump on the floor in the middle of the night, but I can’t be mad at him.  I might be turning into a crazy person.

I am a deep sleeper, but wake for unfamiliar noises.  At 5 am, I heard something, and it wasn’t Sparky’s tap dancing on the hardwood floor as he goes for a stroll.  It was enough to warrant a sweep of the house, but that didn’t last long.

In the solarium, Sparky had taken a dump in the middle of the room.  It was so ludicrous, I was tempted to take a picture.  It was right in the middle of the room, and larger than his head.  One, let’s call it a segment, looked like an Arturo Fuente Magnum.

Last night, Sparky was uncomfortable.  If I lay on the couch to watch TV, he likes to flop over so I can rub his belly.  He didn’t want that.  Any flopping or belly rubbing was unappreciated.  Sparky even went to bed early, which is unusual.  As is our routine, I took him out before I went to bed.  It would usually be a quick trip, but we walked down to the bridge.  Sparky wasn’t talkative on our walk, and almost reserved.  I was a little concerned.

Something had him stopped up.  Maybe it was the change in routine from camping over the weekend or eating too much of whatever he found in the garbage bag.  Sparky is an old guy.  I’m an old guy.  I’d have had a cup of coffee to set me to right.  He has limited options.

Sparky did the only thing he could, so I cleaned up his deposit, and went back to bed. 

At about 8 am, Sparky came out to face his impending doom.  He knows what he did.  You can see the shame on his face in the photo.  I might be crazy for empathizing, and pretending like it never happened.

After taking the photo and talking for a little while, we went out for a walk.  Somehow, the little tube managed to poop again, but that was small potatoes.  It may have been a performative poop to convince me that a ground hog or hobo had creeped into my house to take a dump.  Fine, we’ll go with that.