Sorry, couldn’t resist. Anyway, the inspiration for this post is my wife complaining this morning of disturbing dreams — about our new pug’s maddeningly irregular pooping habits. It turns out that animals, even the remarkably robust and well-behaved Bacci, do not poop on a schedule. And since we are now unsure about the extent of his housebrokenness (tho xlnt for a coupla weeks — there have now been incidents), it’s easy to obsess. He went out, yes, but did he poop? Did you see it? For the love of God, DID THE LITTLE GUY DO HIS BUSINESS!??

We’re committed to defusing the fecal fixation. Let him go when he needs to. ‘Cause even when he doesn’t, he dutifully follows us into the backyard anyway, in the cold of night, and tries to figure out why we’re just standing around staring at him. I only hope we haven’t already given him some sort of Freudian fixation…