I would know that shit, anywhere

a short funny story

Recent events led me to think back to my roommates when I was an undergraduate forestry major at the University of Maine, Orono more than 40 years ago. As a senior, I shared a four bedroom, relatively dilapidated, house with one bathroom with three roommates and whomever they might have been sleeping with. They were great roommates and not promiscuous! My autism made it hard for me to have a girlfriend (it took me until I was 27), so there were never more than seven of us sharing the bathroom.

The house in Orono, Maine was owned by our next-door neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Charlie Moose, who were good landlords. That was their real name, and, no, they were not cartoon characters. They were, however, exemplary Maine stereotypes.

All of us living or coming and going from the house became the “Blob” family. Why? One of us had acquired one of those stress reliever devices you squeeze with your hands and is made of rubber but hollow on the inside. This one was shaped like a male person. And, when you squeezed him, his bald head would inflate to a ridiculous proportion giving you a sense of relief has you thought about whoever pissed you off that day. This was a helpful device when you are trying to hold it in due to sharing one bathroom with six other college students.

We named our stress reliever, "Blob,” and that is how we became the Blob family. There was me (Jim-Blob), Phil-Blob, Jen-Blob, and another roommate whose last name was Black, so she was Black-Blob. We were all left-wing liberals, so there were no racial implications to that name, it just worked better than her first name and it gave one name with some alliteration. Alliteration also brings laughter when one is stoned.

Jen-blob had a boyfriend (Rob-Blob) who had male golden retriever, Jess (Jess-Blob— and Jess was a little overweight, so it fit). Jess-Blob was my best friend whenever I saw him. Being autistic, I would almost always rather be with a dog so Jess was an axiety reliever. Jess-Blob had all the wonderful traits of golden retrievers, including being mellow, fun, and having no impulse control around food. Terrible things would happen if a bag of dog food were left unprotected and in reach. But we don’t need to go there.

Rob-Blob was a wildlife biology technician. One summer he needed to be in the backwoods of Maine for several weeks, so I had the honor of house-sitting for him, and dog-sitting for Jess-Blob. Jess started my love affair with golden retrievers.

After graduating with my BS, I went to graduate school at Virginia Tech at first, but was lucky to transfer into Yale’s PhD program in the School of Forestry and Environmental Studies the following Fall. I went back to Orono to work in the summer in between leaving Blacksburg, VA and moving to New Haven, CT.

My memory is a bit hazy at this point. But I remember walking up to a group of people that included Rob-Blob. Jess-Blob was there, too. I was so excited to see Jess. I was a bit disappointed because although Jess was happy to get a pet from anything human, he didn’t seem to recognize me.

After the initial encounter and pet, Jess started sniffing around me. He eventually stuck his nose in between my legs on my backside and got a whiff from my butt through my jeans. Upon taking that sniff, he burst out with excitement! I mean I received the greeting that one sees in movies when the golden retriever comes running across a field and flying into the arms of their long-lost human companion. For me, there really is not much better than a golden retriever greeting me with an infinite level of enthusiasm.

I have to admit that I was disappointed that Jess didn’t recognize me at first. So, I had to accept that he had associated his love for me with the smell of my backside. I had to accept that Jess knew my shit, anywhere.

I have had seven golden retrievers since my friendship with Jess-Blob ended when I moved to New Haven. All those golden retrievers were the greatest dogs ever, including my current golden, Brea (the picture associated with this post). But only Jess needed to smell my butt through my pants before enthusiastically greeting me.

He has a special place in my heart. We need more Jess-Blobs around that can identify the maker of shit when they smell it.