Embarrassing Period Stories

Blame The Dog

All right, I've got one. It's more about the, uh, accessories of menstruation than the process, but it is still something I look back on with a mighty cringe and a shake of my head. Without further ado:
First off, you have to know that I love my dog. He is curious, smart and adventurous. He doesn't care when I have to feed him from the cat's food because I've run out of dog food and am too lazy to change out of my PJs to go to the store. In fact, he'll eat anything: goose poop, bugs...and tampons. Used tampons.

I try my damndest to make sure the bathroom door is kept closed when the crimson tide is upon me and there are tampons in the trash can. I really, really do. I also try to keep the trash can inside of the bathroom cupboard at that time of the month, but as soon as I'm doing my thing in the dead of night, I get that "aw fuck it" middle-of-the-night apathy and drag that sucker out for easier access. But as I am human, I sometimes forget to either put the trashcan back in the cupboard and/or close the bathroom door, so occasionally I come home to find shredded, bloody toilet paper notably void of the tampon that had been wrapped in it and thrown away. As gross as this is, it is just a [disgusting] part of life that I try not to dwell on for too long, and it never seems to hurt the iron constitution of my dog.

About a year ago, an out-of-town friend calls and asks if she can crash at my place for the night. I say sure. After I get off work, she and I meet for dinner, have a lovely time, and then she follows me in her car back to my house. While she's putting her stuff in the guest bedroom, I notice the bathroom door was left open when I left the house that morning. Panic-stricken because I know there are tampons in the trash can, I rush to find that indeed, the dog has gotten in the wastebasket and left little red shreds of evidence everywhere. I clean everything up quickly, change the bag in the trash can, and everything looks normal again.

That evening, I'm taking my dog for a walk. Actually, I'm taking him on a really LONG walk, hoping he'll expel that used article of mine. He never does, and I figure he'll do it in the morning.

The next morning, I get up and am heading to the bathroom when I hear my friend say, "Dude, your dog pooped on the floor!" I swear to Christ, I will remember this scene for the rest of my life. I walk into the kitchen to find my friend holding a steaming mug of coffee and staring quizzically down at the floor at a piece of dog poop...that has a threaded cotton string coming out the end.

Yes. It was a poop tampon.

My friend, bless her, either feigned ignorance or it was honestly too early for her to realize that what she was seeing was a used tampon that had been shat out of a dog's butt laying in the middle of the kitchen floor. I was MORTIFIED. I made a completely lame excuse about the dog getting into my craft yarn that probably made NO sense and cleaned it up. To this day, she hasn't said a word about it, and if that doesn't earn her a place in heaven then nothing will.

The dog, however, has yet to apologize.