Husband went to the store to rent a couple of movies. It doesn't matter what they were because he hated both of them. When he returned, the dogs made their usual big hoo-haw and I let them out to greet him. Everybody came back inside and Max headed straight for his water dish. Husband with his supermarket bag next to him on the counter, Max at his water dish, and I make a triangle; I'm looking at and talking to Husband. I glance down and see, rolling an inch behind Max's rear feet, a small dark ball of poodlepoop.
I hurried to the bathroom to get a little toilet paper to pick up this stray Max poop ball, hoping I could do it before Husband saw it and was disgusted. Max is a little unreliable in some ways. This was a new one, but I wasn't surprised.
I came back, toilet paper in hand, and the poop ball was gone.
Husband was chewing happily on a mouthful of . . . something.
I goggled at him.
He reached into the supermarket bag and pulled out half a dozen more purple grapes, and popped a couple more in his mouth.