Maya has taken to eating, um, well, poo poo.
I first suspected this when I smelled it on her breath as she jumped up to lick me on the face whilest I was sitting on the sofa.
“Ewww! Get away! You’ve been eating shit!” I screamed.
A few nights later, when letting Maya and Moose out to potty at 4 a.m., I spied Maya waiting patiently near Moose as he was taking a dump. Then, from my vantage point inside the glass storm door of our front entrance, I saw Maya calmly walk over to where Moosie had made his deposit and just as calmly lower her head toward it, mouth open. I flung open the door and hissed “NO!!!!!!!!” unintentionally waking everyone in the house in the process, but intentionally getting Maya to look up suddenly and guiltily and dash for the house before she could be christened a “bad dog.”
“What? What is it?” the wife called sleepily from back in bed.
“Maya’s eating shit,” I whispered.
“Maya. Is. Eating. Shit,” I repeated.
We then both had to hunker down in the covers and pull all limbs beneath, lest any stray dog licks from the edge of the bed send us flying to the shower in the wee hours.
Yesterday, while taking the dogs out for a walk, we were making our way across the yard toward the trail head, when I noticed Maya bending down for something in the grass. As I watched, she gobbled up a few recently thawed links of poop, and then moved on toward a new pile, chewing all the while.
“No! No! You don’t eat shit! You DO NOT eat shit!” I screamed. Maya heard me yelling and cowered in the grass in “bad dog” pose. I realized I’d maybe over reacted a tad, and then tried to tell her she was a good dog. But every time I spoke pleasantly, she would run toward me for petting, reassurance and, of course, slobbery dog kisses, which in turn made me scream “NO!” and run away, which caused her to cower again and start the cycle anew.
Perhaps we’re not feeding her enough, as coprophagia is a sign of underfeeding.
Days since last accident = 0