Oh pooh!

The Boy and I were in quite a quandary this morning over whether to wipe Sam's bottom or not.

He's always had a 'smelly' bottom (to put it politely) not helped by the fact he loves to waft it in your face at every opportunity. And often leaves pooey little footprints here and there. But it seems to be getting worse. And we can't see why. We empty his litter tray twice a day. And he certainly doesn't appear to be suffering the squirts.

The Boy has, however, noticed that Sam's a little over zealous when it comes to covering his waste. He scrapes and scrapes and scrapes and scrapes ... this way and that way ... up and down ... backwards and forwards ... in and out ... until there's no longer a good sized lump of pooh, but lots of little chocolate raisin sized nuggets. He's bound to get the odd bit of poop stuck under his nails with that kind of enthusiasm.

Anyway ...

The Boy's parents are coming to stay this weekend so last night I decided to put Sam and Merry's blankets in the wash. I certainly didn't want the 'in laws' thinking our boys wallow in poop. 90 minutes later they came out of the washing machine looking as good as new. Thank you God.

Only ... when we came down this morning **HORROR** they were covered in more pooey footprints than ever before. And Sam, who was eyeballing a cosy little spot on our lovely white sofa, appeared to have a big splodge of pooh on his bum.

Hence the quandary about whether to wipe his bottom or not. We decided against it in the end. I don't think Sam would have seen it the same way we did.

I'm just dreading what I'll find when I get home tonight ...

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