Stepping into slime

Did you know that around 400 million years ago, before trees became common place, the Earth was covered with giant mushrooms? It’s true.

If you were being geological about it, this period in Earth’s history is known as the Devonian, 60.3 million years from the end of the Silurian and running until the beginning of the Carboniferous. The Devonian is named after the English county, Devon, where rocks from this period were first studied.

I didn’t know any of this of course, seeing as how I wasn’t born until 1976. However I am intrigued by the fact that giant mushrooms once roamed the land (very slowly) when the tallest trees were only a few feet high.

Having only been born in 1976, there’s quite a lot I don’t know, although I would never admit as much to any member of my family; they never read this and so there’s no chance of me inadvertently tipping them off. Why don’t they read this? They have to live with me, that’s why.

I will also freely admit that there remains so much more that I don’t know about dogs or in point of fact, my own dog. I know he’s a fool, that is a given, although beyond that, he remains a constant source of astonishment. In point of another fact, my own ignorance vis-à-vis his canine capers is also a constant source of astonishment.

Last week, as is regularly the case, I found myself perturbed by Waffle’s antics. Actually replace the word ‘perturbed’ with ‘fuppen raging’ and that comes almost close to how I felt.

I have documented Waffle’s regular infractions on a regular basis, although last week I feared he may have attained a new plateau of annoyance. Or so I thought.

To give him his dues, aul Waff has long ago discovered that I don’t take too kindly to him taking a dump on the lawn. Let’s just say that previous incursions onto said lawn elicited stern rebukes.

There may also have been chases and shouting and the throwing of anything that came to hand. Let’s just also say that it’s a good job I don’t own a flame-thrower.

Last week though, I was out walking on the lawn during one of the fine, sun-lit mornings. I was barefoot at the time too and I was savouring the cool dew underfoot. However my pleasure was instantly and irrevocably interrupted when I stepped into a large patch of dog puke.

Wearing shoes, this would have been perturbing in the extreme (fuppen enraging, even) but barefoot and it was another matter altogether and I immediately remembered the necessity of taking that day’s blood pressure medication.

Luckily for Waffle, he wasn’t around at the time and so I shuffled back to the house, trying to wipe off as much of the offending gunk as I could manage. Back at the palatial country residence, I had to wash the sullied appendage at the outside tap before I could even consider entry.

Luckily for Waffle, his absence continued until such times as my wrath had abated and I was able to relate the unfortunate tale to the little humans, who both found the caper uproariously funny. Upon his own entry, Waffle appeared not one bit abashed for his preference of chundering in the garden.

The following day, ensuring my hooves were appropriately shod, I ventured out into the fresh air once more. Stepping onto the garden, you might imagine my perturbation to discover not one but two patches of bile-y dog puke. This time Waffle was at my heels and so, not having a flame-thrower to hand, I had to make do with one of my stern rebukes. It may have involved the statements, “pukey wee fecker” and “I’m gonna wring your hairy neck.”

Now, being the dedicated pater familias that I am, I decided that I would take a photo of the offending boke that I might present to the little humans as a form of evidence demonstrating their pet’s flagrant repudiation of the house rules.

Then, being the dedicated klutz that I am, I managed to mess up the photo. Instead of taking a straight picture, I fumbled my phone and used the ‘lens’ function within the camera.

If you are unaware, this ‘lens’ function is an image recognition technology which compares the taken photo with similar images on the World Wide Web.

You might imagine my astonishment thereafter when the photo of the puke turned out to be something other than dog chunder.

What I had assumed (reasonably, I considered) was dog puke which had been splattered onto the grass by the Hateful Hound was actually a hitherto unknown substance (to me at least) called Dog Vomit Fungus. It’s true!

Doing something of a double take at my very smart phone (smarter than me at least), I read, “Dog Vomit Fungus (Fuligo Septica) is a species of slime mould, and a member of the class Myxomycetes. It is also commonly known as scrambled egg slime… it’s most likely to show up during warm, wet periods — sometimes seeming to pop up overnight.”

“Well, pickle my walnuts, as Len Goodman (RIP) used to say,” I breathed, most likely shaking my head in wonder. “You’re not a pukey wee fecker after all, Waffie. And here was me thinking it was you spewing all that yellow bile onto the lawn.”

Waffle’s tail went into overdrive and he hopped up expecting to be scratched.

“You’re still a plonker though,” I told him, complying with the request. “But maybe, so am I.

“At least it wasn’t a giant dog puke mushroom, right enough.”