I had not bought disposable nappies for a quarter of a century, and I knew as I bought a pack of newborn size disposables that an important line had been crossed.
For weeks, I had been following Dick van Duck around the house with wadges of toilet paper and a bleachy mop, and the constant clearing up and farmyard smell was really getting to me. His adult size deposits were fragrant enough to create an instant atmosphere, and memories of manageable little baby poops were fading fast. On the bright side, I could confidently claim to be more of an expert on the three main textures of duck doings than most people would ever want or need to be!
Our delight at our feathered friend’s comical exploits was more and more often overshadowed by irritation and weariness with the constant mess. SOMETHING HAD TO BE DONE.
My good friend Google did not bat an eyelid when asked for advice, and came up with details of several people in the USA who had experience of the same problem.
One just has to hope it is photoshopped!
“Put your little darling in a ducky diaper,” they crooned, “and your life will once again be a non-stop pageant of ducky delightfulness.” I was not convinced. I found myself thinking along the lines of ‘If God had intended ducks to wear nappies …’ Of course, I had no such qualms when I had human babies to care for, but Dick is, when all is said and done, a farmyard animal, and should be free to poop and run as nature intended.
The problem, however, was not going away, and to prove the point, Dick made a particularly pungent comment up the leg of the table.
Once the mop and bucket had done their stuff, I returned to the American World of Duck Diapers and Flight Suits* web site. There must be something I could obtain to keep the floor clean and the guttering flame of my affection for Dick from extinction.
Words fail me! (Although I have to admit, it’s quite cute)
Thirty something dollars plus postage had me wondering where I had put the tin foil. I could not believe the prices of these things. Admittedly, you could choose from a number of cute designs, including a pirate themed poop catching outfit for a pet parrot, but thirty odd dollars?
I decided that it must be possible to modify the duckini I had made for Dick to go for walks en famille. How hard could it be to make something that would hold a nappy in place while he carried on his normal round of busy duck-type activities?
Of course, the first problem was measuring him. AWDD&FS suggested that a couple of measurements were all that was needed for them to make a snazzy outfit that any duck would be clamouring to wear. Dick was not convinced that being measured was going to enhance his life to any significant degree. We tussled and struggled, as I told him to stand still and he told me to get lost. We both discovered the origins of the expression about having ones feathers ruffled, and I obtained some rather approximate data.
Out came the trusty sewing machine, a Tesco microfibre cloth in a fetching shade of yellow, and the clasps off a small, cheap dog harness. Dick was unimpressed with the result, and so, frankly, was I.
How on earth is that going to work?
A couple of adjustments to the prototype later, we had an elastic and button arrangement replacing the harness fittings, and a pink microfibre cloth instead of the yellow. Dick was cautious about putting his head through the neck hole, but otherwise fairly stoical. He stood on my lap, with his head tucked under my arm, while I adjusted the fit of the nether strappings. Half a disposable nappy was held snugly under his fuselage, and he looked comfortable, so I congratulated us both on a job well done, and put him back on the floor.
He ran straight into the shower room, and threw himself into his bath, splashing happily and instantly water logging the nappy. He did not seem to understand why I was slightly cheesed off.
While the harness hung on Boggle’s cage in the sunshine to dry, Dick waddled around, pooping happily, and passing insouciant comments on the weather. I ran up a spare harness, muttering ‘One to wear, and one in the wash,’ transported temporarily back to the humiliation of school uniform fittings at Broadley Brothers of Hove.
I shut the bathroom door before kitting Dick out in his dry nappy and harness, and he co-operated very well, standing with his head tucked under my arm. He seems to favour this position when he wants to feel secure. I suspect it is his instinctive approximation of being tucked under a mother duck’s wing.
It has to be said that the very inexpensive home brew nappy harness** works like a dream and Dick will happily wear it for a few hours. He preens his feathers around it, so that the straps virtually disappear, and it is quite discreet.
Like this! 😀
Everyone is more relaxed now that we can enjoy his company without the unwelcome constant mess, and he gets to spend more time with us as a result.
Trips in the car are a more relaxed affair. I no longer struggle to get him to sit still on an old tea towel on my lap, while he gets over-stimulated by the sights flashing past him. He sits happily in the foot well, keeping Poppy company in the back.
I remain convinced that Dick was born to poop with reckless abandon and in an unfettered fashion, but until he goes to live with some other ducks in an outdoor environment, his nappy gives us a few hours each day to enjoy his company without the unwelcome intrusion of the mop and bucket routine.
* Names have been changed to protect the exorbitant
**If you happen to live with an incontinent duck, and would like information about how the ‘garment’ was made, let me know and I’ll be happy to share what I can.