The dog's butt towel

If you look very closely at my logo, you will see common items from my daily tedium noted on a long list. And no, your eyes are not deceiving you. The first item really does say "Wash dog's butt towel."

Let me explain.

It's pretty simple, really. I'm a mom and washing butt towels is what a mom does, right? So, I guess the bigger story is in explaining exactly what a butt towel is.

Fifteen years ago, my husband (now my ex) bought me a dog for my birthday. I fell in love with the tiny, shaky, big-eared little guy (dog, not ex) when I first saw him. He was the runt. He needed me (a theme which also explains that particular marriage).  This little dog is the only good thing that's ever come out of my former co-dependence.

He's a min-pin. For those who don't know the breed, he's a yappy lap dog but looks like a bad, mean doberman.

I'm stating the obvious when I say that the dog far outlasted the relationship with the ex.

Regardless, I now have a 15 year old dog. He's bumpy and lumpy and smells like a nursing home. No matter what I do. Even after treatment and teeth cleaning, the little guy still has a condition that we in the Pennington household refer to as "butt mouth."

We've adjusted to butt mouth, but another old dog affliction recently surfaced. Apparently, he's lost a little control of his body functions. It's not bad, but we've noticed that on his way to the door to go out, we might find a small puddle near the door where he just didn't quite make it in time.

It's the same with bowel movements. In human terms, we'd refer to this as "skid marks." But since my dog doesn't wear whitey-tighties, we have to do something to protect our laps when he sits with us.

And that's where the butt towel comes in.

So, in a way, a butt towel is a whitey-tighty alternative for dogs.

And now you know the first chore on my daily to do list.