Air quality issues

Is it time for the diaper story?
Yeah, its time for the diaper story.
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Once upon a time there were two very bad evil dogs who used to go rambling in the woods with their mom. This one time we were down by the Nooksack river (yes, thats really its name)following a railroad embankment. It was salmon season, meaning March, and quite warm, and so thaw was well under way. This is the time of year that...lets call them 'woods dwelling skank beasts, holler monsters and pintos' begin to notice that the trash is starting to stink, so they start sneaking all the garbage that they'd accumulated over the winter months out of the carport - or the back bedroom, or wherever - and down to the river banks so the spring floods will wash it away. Anyway thats the theory. The most convenient hidden dumping place nearby was the riverward slope of the railroad embankment. This had been going on for years and years-there were Model T cars down there, parts of old treadle sewing machines, all kinds of stuff on up to microwave ovens and plastic milk jugs.
And diapers.
Lots and lots of diapers.
LOTS of diapers.

Which, you know, had I known about beforehand would have made me think again about my choice of hike, see.

Jett kept coming back to me down the tracks all wriggling and wagging and grinning with her head and front paws covered with what I thought at the time was, um, mud. Kind of, um, reddish mud. She'd do her little 'This is so great, mom!" dance and run back up the tracks and down into the woods again.

Meanwhile I'm just sauntering along in my childlike stupor, admiring the river, when Opie comes out of the brush ahead pulling something in his mouth. I take this something for a fast food bag. I trot up to grab it away from him but he dances off trying to entice me into playing chase. He gives his head a little shake.. "C'mon, Jiggles, don't you wish you had this? But its mine! And YOu can't have it! And I've got it!" and as he does this it unravels, and a big fat chunky baby turd rolls out.

These animals had found a virtual Mt. Everest of diapers. Was it all from one kid? One really big, fat obese mutant kid who liked ketchup? Or a lot of kids? Like crop circles and much of the Catholic religion, it is a mystery.

There is no way to describe the smell. AND there were salmon carcasses mixed in with it. It was all nice and warm with pretty curls of mist coming off it, and my dogs obviously hadn't been the first ones at the banquet either, and oh Jesus it was everywhere. In the trees, hanging in the brush, floating down the river....
And y dogs? My dogs were romping in it. Romping in this giant pile of swollen, festering, ghastly-ass funky baby shit. They are accomplished poo rompers; theres a horse story I will recount at a later time; but now is not that time. This is the time........ of the DIAPER.

I had to drag them away by the collars.
They each got repeated duckings in the river, which seemed to irritate them for some reason, probably because it was pure snowmelt, and then we all trudged back to the car and left.

Halfway home, Jett barfed.

By the time we had pulled into the driveway Jett had filled both the entire rear footwells. With barf. Baby shit barf. Both of them.

Opie was pretty quiet, but I watched as he swole up like a little inflatable hairy pig full of poo. And he was burping. Until that moment I did not realize that dogs got face farts. They do. Oh indeed they do.

They both ended up at the vet overnight and both of them had to get their stomachs pumped.
The admitting nurse seemed to have some very real elemental difficulty getting her mind around the whole shit issue. 'Feces? Oh. You mean, poop? They've been eating...some kind of doo?"
Now here I'm thinking 'Madam, aren't you the one with the degree in veterinary medicine? Is it really such big news that dogs are coprophageous?' So I lead her to the car, and opened the rear door.
"Oh", she said.
Just, 'Oh.'
'You got any paper towels?" I ask.
"No!" she replies. Before I'd finished saying the word 'towel', even.
Cost me 300$. Little fuckers.