“Would you like more wine?” He gestures to my glass that only has a little left.
I drain the glass and then hold it out to him. “Sure.”
“Great. I’ll be right back.” I watch him walk into the house and then turn my attention to Ellis and Roscoe. But that’s when I notice that Roscoe is running around in a circle, sniffing his butt.
“Ms. Lewis!” Ellis runs up to me. “Roscoe is running around in a circle.”
Standing from my chair, I reply, “I can see that.” I wait for him to stop, but when he does for just a few seconds, he goes right back to chasing his tail. Yet, he’s not exactly after his tail. No, his nose is certainly positioned right at his back door.
I walk down the steps and onto the grass. “Roscoe, baby. Come here.” But he doesn’t close the distance between us. Instead, he starts dragging his butt across the grass. “Okay…well, that’s new.” As soon as I get closer to him, I finally see what’s got him all riled up. “Oh my gosh.”
Ellis is giggling. “Your puppy is so funny, Ms. Lewis.”
“Uh, he is,” I say, trying to stifle my laugh. “But it looks like Roscoe went to the bathroom and he didn’t get all the way clean.”
My eyes land on the piece of feces dangling from the hair around his butthole.
Rhonan’s voice appears from the deck. “What’s going on?”
“Roscoe has poop on his butt!” Ellis yells back.
Rhonan’s nose scrunches up. “Gross.”
I turn my head to face him. “What do I do?”
“Uh, clean it up?”
“With what? My hand?”
Rhonan sets the wine glasses on the small table between the chairs. “Hold on.” He goes back into the house, and when he returns, he brings me wet paper towels. “Here.”
“Thank you.” I take the paper towels from him and walk toward Roscoe. “Come here, boy.” But my dog is still running himself in a circle, trying to solve his own problem.
Ellis speaks. “You have to chase him, Ms. Lewis.”
“If I chase him, he’ll just run away.”
“I can help.” Ellis rushes toward Roscoe. “Come on, Roscoe! Let’s clean up your butt!”
I can’t control my laughter, but Roscoe is too fast for Ellis to catch. I lunge toward him, but he fakes me out and darts to the side.
“I just want you to know that this is what I looked like that morning before Career Day when I was trying to get him out of my yard.”
I glare at Rhonan over my shoulder. “Not helping.”
Sighing, he heads toward Roscoe where he’s dragging his ass along the grass again. “Come here, boy. I just wanna help you get that dingleberry off your butt.”
“Dingleberry?” I ask.
Rhonan nods, but his eyes are still focused on my dog. “That’s what this thing is called.”
“You learn something new every day.”
“Can you eat a dingleberry?” Ellis asks.
I turn down to look at her. “No, honey.”
“Then why is it called a berry?”
