He did it again. Harley the Wonder Schnoodle pooped on his ball. He’s obsessed with this ratty, half-chewed tennis ball that he carries around with him all the time. He even sleeps with this ball. It’s his prized possession.

Which is why I don’t know why he wasn’t more careful to not poop on it (while outside… I felt the need to clarify). Seriously. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s ever done this. It’s probably the fifth. So now yet another ball had to be tossed in the garbage, never to be seen again. And Harley knows exactly where it is, which is why for the next week, he’s going to cry at my back door, begging me to let him go retrieve it from the can in the garage.

Men. I just don’t get them. If Harley were a girl, I guarantee you the ball would still be here.