Note from Aaron: I wrote this seven years ago. Shortly after I more-or-less finished it, our dog Bayla, who is the star of this little tale, shuffled off this mortal canine coil, and I was too upset to publish it — and then, as with most things in my life, I forgot all about it. The rug is gone, too, but if you read to the end of this stomach-turning story, I think you’ll agree that’s probably for the best.
I was going to start out with a warning that the following topic might not be suitable for those of gentle constitutions. My plan was to warn whoever read this that they should carefully consider the first sentence—which, in the first draft, was “I’ve just finished cleaning a pile of horse poo from our living room rug”—and think very carefully about whether to proceed.
Then it occurred to me that if I just titled this essay “Horse Poo”, that might weed people out automatically. Continue reading “Horse Poo”