My wife and I have two Boston Terriers – Max and Jack. For those of you that visit, Max is the surly, fat, smart one, while Jack is the happy, athletic idiot. Needless to say, we love them completely. Max and Jack have one driving passion in life, and of late, that passion has become a bit of a pain. You see, Max and Jack are poopy aficionados.

The Hunt for Poopy

Any venture outside is a grand hunt for poopy for Max and Jack. They just can’t seem to get enough. It doesn’t matter what variety of poopy they find, either. Dog, people, duck, porcupine, frog, parakeet, elephant, republican, democrat, you name it, they’ll wolf it down and comment on the ethereal ambiance of its tastes and flavors.

Now, while any poopy is fabulous poopy, cat poopy is the real victory. It’s comparable to chocolate for most humans I believe: while all poopy is fabulous, cat poopy is like the Godiva of poopy. It’s their purpose in life. Well, sleeping, chasing tennis balls and eating poopy are their purposes, in no specific order, but you get where I’m going.

Like most of us, however, dogs don’t get to eat out too often, so their own poopy is the target.

Drawing the Lines

Let me point out, that the quest for poopy often occurs outside, whilst my wife or I try to encourage them to create their own poopy. Still, the hunt for poopy, their own or the poopy of others can occur anywhere, at any time. Their talent for locating, and swallowing poopy before we can tell them not to would make the most advanced truffle-sniffing pig feel like, well, something that truffle-sniffing pigs look down upon.

So basically it is a test of wills – they doing everything in their itty-bitty little powers to procure and consume poopy, while we do everything we can to put an end to this poopy-lust forever. It is a war that will likely have no winners, and millions of poopies will probably be lost. Yet we strive forward, all four of us resolute in our goals.