The Poop Dance

There must be something wrong with Ungus' nose. He doesn't seen to be able to smell his own poop! Dad plays with us in the back yard - fetch, tuggie wars, hide and seek - that kind of stuff. Ungus gets so excited that I swear  his nose stops working. Dad will throw a toy for him to retrieve and he takes off like a bullet. He is supposed to go to the "corner" to poop, and usually he does - he caught on to that pretty quick - but sometimes he is just so fired up, though, he has to poop right in the middle of his mad dash after the toy. He poops as fast as he can and then zooms on after the toy. He grabs it and heads back to Dad as hard as he can go - right through the poop he just left! He doesn't give Dad a chance to PoopScoop it - he doesn't give it a chance to dry out. It would seem the "poop dance", as it has come to be called, must be performed as soon as possible, and with complete disregard for the consequences. He just "zooms" - right through it. Now, Dad will be the first one to tell you that if there are poop tracks in the house, he would much rather they be paw prints than his shoe prints - he says that is for, "... his own safety sake." Because of this apparent sporadic failure of Ungus' sense of smell, Mom has instigated a new rule. All paws and shoes are to be checked at the gate. I know she says, "all paws..." just so Ungus' feelings won't be hurt. But gee - its humiligrating to have my paws checked just 'cause Ungus is a wind-up toy with his spring too tight. There is now an "emergency paw bath" set up at the gate so Ungus can get his feet washed, just in case he did the traditional Highland Fling in the poop. I keep telling him to slow down, that Dad will let him have a "corner break," but he just gets too "puppy-fied" as Mom calls it. Well, we're headed out to the yard for exercise with Dad. When we come back, if you smell anything, it's not me!