Human Turds: The Unlikely Snack Choice of My Dog
Why they trump dog biscuits every time
Firstly, I’ll make a disclaimer: the dog isn’t mine. I’m looking after it. A thrice-yearly arrangement I have with the guy whose estate I manage in rural France.
I don’t look forward to it.
I’m a cat person at heart who sees a dog as an inconvenience rather than a pleasure. An old lumbering Irish wolfhound I could handle. But a two-year-old Brittany Spaniel, who has the brain the size of a walnut, is not my idea of fun.
So anyway, after a few days of being driven up the wall by this banshee, I noticed that Sirène (the dog) hadn’t been eating her food. This was unusual as the last time I looked after her, she finished her bowl in seconds.
Was she ill? Pregnant? Dying? Maybe she was homesick and missed Paris. Unlikely. I live and work on a 24-hectare estate, on which she can run around all day.
Yesterday, though, I noticed her bowl was half empty, but thought nothing of it — the dog seemed healthy enough. It was only this morning, as I was walking in the woods, that I saw the reason for her reduced appetite.
She was being fed elsewhere.
As most rich people do when they acquire a new property, they have the dying urge to alter, demolish, and change. My boss was no different.
When he bought the estate two years ago, he immediately started renovating the main house to such a degree that most of the builders I spoke to said most people would have knocked it down and started again.
At the beginning of the project, the builders had a portable toilet. But for some reason, after Christmas, it disappeared, possibly stolen.
Luckily, the woods lie just behind the main house. A convenient place for the builders to relieve themselves among the celandines and primroses that cover the forest floor at this time of year.
I discovered this makeshift latrine this morning.
Or rather, Sirène did. Immediately racing towards it and feasting on the soft turds like she was at one of those eat-as-much-as-you-want buffets.
You may want to stop reading at this point, as you probably feel violently ill. So imagine how I felt!
I knew dogs ate other dogs’ excrement, and the reason I always pity owners who let their dogs lick them all over. But eating human faeces was setting the bar to an all-time low!
This was vile. This was low.
I picked up a stick and swished the air in an attempt to get Sirène away. Partly, for the dog’s health, and partly for my sanity. I had the vision etched on my mind (probably forever) of a dog licking away at the turd like it was a freshly grilled bratwurst.
Can you think of anything more disgusting on a pleasant morning in spring? Nope, me neither!
My only concern is when the owner comes back tomorrow to pick up his dog and notices an almost-full bag of dog biscuits. What am I going to say? How am I going to explain what’s been happening?
Then again, seeing as he recently refused my request for a pay rise, maybe I’ll just watch the dog lick him all over and say nothing. After all, ignorance is bliss.
And incredibly pleasing.
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Can humans eat dog biscuits? Could be a nice experiment.