How many times can I say poop in one blog post? Twelve.

This blog will look deep into your soul, and tell you to run away.

About three years ago we purchased a house and a puppy. We named him Phil, he is a classy Golden Retriever that owns his own pub. I read a lot about retrievers prior to our purchase and I was pretty excited about how fast they were at becoming potty trained. A lot of retrievers would be potty trained within a few short weeks. Amazing. Apparently nobody informed Phil that he is a retriever. Phil just loved pooping indoors. Some people claim their dog is like a human, well mine poops inside. Beat that. A short nine months later he was finally a house friendly dog! Somewhere in the middle of those nine months the following event occurred.

One Saturday morning me and Annie decided to go to Home Depot. I forget what we were shopping for, perhaps a grill. I grabbed the leash and me, Annie and my faithful companion Phil were off. We got to Home Depot and me and Phil were looking at grills and Annie was down another corresponding aisle. After a few minutes Phil needed to poop. The great retriever that he is, he informed me of this by pooping right where he was. Some dogs let you know they need to poop by nudging you or whining. Phil skips that inefficient step and lets you know the fastest way possible. By pooping. On the floor, in Home Depot, by the grills. I panicked.

At first I tried to drag Phil towards the entrance, which was 40 yards off. This I would not recommend for all you future "My dog is pooping in Home Depot and I don't know what to do" people. So I no longer have one location of dog poop. I have multiple, because my dumb ass thought dragging Phil towards the entrance was ideal.

I NEED TO FIND ANNIE. I start running, passing aisles, with Phil now running by my side with a whole lot of energy. Let me get distracted here for a moment. Whenever Phil poops he always celebrates by sprinting around the house. I wish people did this. How exciting would that be? Your mother in-law comes out of your bathroom and starts sprinting around your living room with a big smile on her face. That is entertainment.

So I am searching for Annie, running in flip flops, with a freshly relieved, super handsome Golden Retriever. I am near the entrance and I finally see her, the problem is that I was almost passed the aisle when I saw her. So I simultaneously yell "Annie" and lose my footing at the same time. I am now flat on my back, in a medium amount of pain. My freshly relieved, super handsome Golden Retriever Phil is staring at his downed owner and Annie is laughing hysterically. She had no idea.

I am in full on panic mode. I explain to her that the Barbecue aisle has been tainted and we needed to act. I was counting on her having a poop bag in her purse. She doesn't have a poop bag in her purse. Which is a total travesty. She has everything in there, more on that in a later blog. Ok. Ok. Ok. We just need to go out to the car and get a poop bag. We exit Home Depot.

We hit the fresh air and breathe in freedom. It feels good to get out of that prison of a building. It doesn't smell very good in there either. We are quickly walking to the car. Somehow, and I am not sure how this happened, we decided that going back into that tainted building was not good policy. We got in the car, started the car, and fled the scene.

We absolutely, positively, ruined somebody's day.