When you look at us, you likely see a happy family. True, there’s the occasional squabble and a fair amount of foul language. We’re often the last people on the block to take in our trash cans. We’re not always an organized, prompt, or recently showered group. But in general, I think what people see when they look at us is a well-adjusted, close knit family.
But every family has its dark secret.
I wonder sometimes if people can tell what ours is by reading my face. I wonder if it’s something I should try to hide. Is it fair to burden people with such information? Maybe just close friends or perhaps a broader circle? Should I, say, feel obligated to disclose this information when engaged in small talk with mere acquaintances? Does everyone have a right to know? Even people I don’t know if I’ll ever see again?
Grocery checker: Were you able to find everything you need today?
Me: Um, I think so.
C: Great! That’ll be forty-seven dollars.
M: Okay.
C: …
M: …
C: There’s a card reader th–
M: My dog eats poop.
C: …
M: I know … it’s a lot. It was hard for me too.
That’s right, friends. Within our own ranks, we harbor a poop eater.
Okay, sure, he’s a dog and dogs do gross things without thinking. It doesn’t matter what kind of dog he is. Poop cravings don’t care about pedigree. Poop eaters can be papered just as easily as they can be rescues.