The first time it happened, I thought I was mistaken. I chalked it up to my aging brain. The second time it happened, I began to suspect something was up. The third time, even though I didn't see it happen, I saw the evidence—actually the lack of evidence—and that is how I am almost one hundred percent sure that something that lives in this desert backyard is coming out at night to eat the dog poop.
Anyway, pooping in the dark is not one of Maddie's privileges.
A few nights this month, she has rousted me off the couch before 5:00 a.m., more like around 3:00 a.m. As her beck-and-call girl (and as a person who would rather avoid cleaning up a mess in the house), I am happy to fumble for my glasses and my sheet and my blazing laser and follow her outside into the dark. Yes, I'm perpetually sleep deprived on dog schedule. However, on the plus side, I saw the super moon a few nights ago. And lots of stars. No coyotes, though.
Back to the mystery of the missing poop. According to Maddie, something lives in the overgrown bush by the pomegranate tree, and I think that something emerges undercover of darkness to consume the warm pile of tasty poop after we go back to the couch. Ick, you might say, and I would tend to agree with you. (Oh, the couch isn't so bad, really. Oh, wait. What? Oh, we're talking about the poop.) If you are a thirsty hungry tree rat looking for a late night snack, you might go yum. Nobody is around, and here's my chance!
I'm actually okay with a tree rat (or something approximately that size) eating the poop. It's kind of like the reverse of the shoemaker's elves, who came in the night to do the cobbler a favor. In this case, a critter is scooping the poop for me, and that is not something to complain about, especially if I don't have to see it actually happening. Not picturing that. Nope.
Maddie knows something lives in the bush. I was told it was a rabbit, but I have not seen any rabbits. I've seen myriad lizards. Could it be lizards eating the poop? I am not an expert on this topic. All I know is what I have seen: Poop is deposited, and poop disappears.
The first time it happened, I thought I had picked up the poop and forgotten. That can happen to a person who is getting old, not that I have a birthday coming up or anything. The second time it happened, I began to suspect something was up, and that (thank god) it wasn't my forgetful brain. The third time I went out to scoop the poop and found it MIA confirmed my belief that something has been eating the poop. Hm. I was going to say, if I had more time and more curiosity, I would set up an infrared camera to catch the culprit in the act. But, no. Ick. Ew. Yech.
In any case, I must bequeath the mystery to the homeowner, who is scheduled to return late tonight. I plan to spend one more night on the couch and leave the doghouse early tomorrow.
I'm ready to move on. Twenty-three days of nonstop dogsitting has given me time to think. I usually think thinking is overrated, but it's hard to stop once I start, so I've been doing a lot of it, in between napping and sweeping, walking and scooping. I'd like to report that my path has become crystal clear, that my massively overeducated intellect has figured everything out, that the planets have aligned to lead me to a new home, but that would not be the case.
A few things have become clear, though, from all this time to think. First, I need to find a way to live within my means until I can get my vestibular issue resolved. Second, I really don't want to have a dog. And third, I have way too much stuff in my car.
