An Interim Entry About Poo and Pie... [ 2004-01-26, 11:35 p.m. ]

...With a Real Entry Soon to Come

I have a confession. And it’s pretty bad.

My dog eats her own poo.

I know. I know. It’s horrifying. But as much as I hoped it was a one-time fluke a few weeks ago (maybe she was hungry? maybe she was afraid of getting in trouble for pooping in the apartment? maybe I imagined the whole thing?), it’s happened a few times now. And a few times is a few too many.

We’re still working on the house-breaking. She is getting much, much better at waiting until we’re outside to, uh…eliminate. But still, accidents happen, and if Kent and I aren’t fast enough, accidents get eaten.

The first time it happened, Kent nearly threw up, such is his delicate gag reflex. I, while far from being charmed by this new behavior, tried my best to clean up the remaining “mess” and show Tuesday some other, more appropriate snacks and chew toys. And that's the burden of being the mom, even if only a dog-mom…I clean up the shit while Kent sat with his head in his hands, moaning, “…not my baby…NOT MY BABY…”

But our baby eats shit. Do other dog owners have any advice? I assume I’m not the only one who has experienced this less-than-desirable trait in her pet; I see dogs sniffing at poo on the street all the time. And once she’s fully housebroken, the problem will hopefully go away. Right? In the meantime, however, I give you a picture of my little shiteater:

In non-puppy, non-poo related things, I am re-energized in my desire to own an apartment. And I’m re-obsessed with said apartment being a loft in DUMBO. I want. I want baaad. Kent and I spent Sunday walking around the DUMBO area (because even thought it was barely 15 degrees out, I would have started banging my head against the wall if we spent another day inside), and it is just so freaking nice. Think cobblestone streets, industrial warehouses and factory buildings with brand-new, sparkling lofts on the inside. The entire neighborhood is metrosexual.

It's phenomenal. There’s a chocolate shop and patisserie , an ice cream factory, ABC Carpet and Home , West Elm , and now, Bubby’s . Bubby’s is a comfort-food, great-for-brunch restaurant in Tribeca with great pie and a really long wait. And now there’s one within walking distance of my apartment, no wait at all. After ice cream (yeah, in the freezing cold, I was the asshole walking around eating a Butter Pecan ice cream cone while wearing gloves and a hat) and shopping, Kent and I sat down in Bubby’s and peeled off a few of our winter layers.

With an unobstructed view of the East River, we gorged on burgers and fries, and I had a Bloody Mary. For the first time! And, um, my friends and family are in trouble for not telling me how great they are! I love Bloody Marys! And pie…I love pie. I had an enourmous wedge of sour cherry pie, and the only thing that kept Sunday from being a perfectly perfect day was the teeny bit of regret I felt over the pie as I watched Charlize Theron walk down the red carpet in her little yellow dress at the Golden Globes. No pie for her.

…and now I want some more pie…

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