Bad Man Jose has very few bad habits. But the ones he does have are transcendental.
One of the worst is when he decides he’s gonna nom down on his own shit. He doesn’t do this often, but now and again, some fecal-eating madness descends on him and he chows down on a turd I may have missed on my daily inspection tours.
We’re on half an acre here. The fucker can shit in lots of places.
The first hint I get this has happened is my wife losing her mind.
“Did you eat shit again, you horrible animal?! Get the fuck away from me, you disgusting rhinocerous! HE’S EATEN SHIT AGAIN! THE STINK IS APPALING! NO! FUCK! DON’T FUCKEN LICK ME! DO SOMETHING!”
“There’s not much I can do.”
“Go to your father! Smell him! Fuck! It’s just awful…I’m going to be sick…”
“You’ll be right. This too shall pass.”
Bad Man Jose is, of course, always somewhat nonplussed by the screaming and condemnation. He understands Lynette is displeased, but he’s not sure how he has sinned.
So he comes to me.
“Oh man, you stink. Go be somewhere else.”
He just makes his tail go around in a circle like a propellor, then goes back to Lynette, because her reaction is heaps more engaging than mine.
“NOOOO! Get the fuck away from me, you stinking, shit-eating cunt! The fuck kind of animal even does that? Like we don’t feed you? Why does he do that?”
“There’s lots of reasons why dogs eat their own shit, but in his case it’s just attention-seeking. He has no underlying medical issues. He just likes seeing you spin out.”
“Since when did you become a fucking vet? The stench! And then he tries to lick me! Are you kidding me? He’s a four-legged barrel of sewerage! My lounge-room smells like a fucken pig’s toilet! There are not enough scented candles on earth for this shit!
“I can go to Woolies and get some more if you like.”
“Take the cunt with you and sell him to the Koreans! They eat them, don’t they?”
“I reckon they won’t buy him if he smells like shit.”
“This cannot go on!”
“It’s been going on for years. So it can.”
“NOOOOO! GET OFF ME! DON’T CLIMB ON ME! FUCK! GETHIMOFFGETHIMOFFGETHIMOFF!”
Bad Man Jose weighs about the same as my wife, so there’s nothing she can do if he climbs onto her lap and pants his shit-breath in her face. And the more she spins out, the more he pants.
“You’re stressing him out by screaming.”
“THERE’S BITS OF SHIT IN HIS TEETH!”
Maybe if you let go of his jowls he’ll close his mouth and things will get better?”
“But then he’ll lick me! Get him off me!”
“Then he’ll lick me, and we’ll both be polluted.”
“You need to head him off before he comes in the house with shit in his mouth!”
“Head him off at the pass? Like he’s a tribe of Apache?”
“Yes!”
“I’m so onto that.”
“You’re lying, bastard.”
“Yes, I am. Look, give him a bowl of dog food and it will dilute the shit-smell.”
“He’ll think he’s being rewarded for eating shit.”
“So then he’ll be like the rest of NSW.”
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