Last night as I served Mom and Pop dinner, I went to set down the dinner plates on the paper shredder that serves as a small table between their matching recliners. It was cluttered with TV remotes, cordless phone, newspapers and something I could not immediately identify but had a distinctly identifiable smell.
"What's that?" I said
"I don't know" Pop said
"It's...poop" Mom said.
"I found it on the floor." Pop said
"Where did it come from?" I said.
"Where do you think it came from?" Mom said.
"I think Jazz, (our black lab) was just in here." Pop said.
"Oh S@#t," I said.
"That's right," Mom said.
"Don't curse," Pop said.
Then to my horror, Mom picked up the turd, (with her bare hands) carefully examined it, and casually tossed it into the trashcan.
Stifling the urge to gag, I returned with a very large container of disinfectant wipes, rubber gloves and a clean trash bag.
