Maxin' and Relaxin', Luna-style

Turns out, when you eat two ample piles of moose droppings that have recently melted out of the yard's snow, you become completely constipated until the middle of the night/mid-morning (must be when someone is not being attentive), at which point you spontaneously combust in your laundry room abode (which, fortunately, your kind hosts have barricaded you into for the night). The fascinating, yes, fascinating part of this process is that the elimination still is most obviously moose nugget, just in the shape of dog excrement.

After your hosts clean things up a few times, cursing you for being so prolific, and, having not yet made the connection between moose nuggets and tastiness, wondering why on earth you're doing this most awful action, you act guilty and sulk around (while at the same time refusing to step on the portions of soiled carpet which have been thoroughly scrubbed).

Then, the hosts have an epiphany about the moose droppings-tastiness correlation. All makes sense in the world! Of course moose nuggets are tasty! It's like chewed up wood! And of course the dog would eat it! Why on earth not?

So, the end result: the droppings that are still identifyable in the yard have either been pitched out of the fence perimeter or sprayed down with a bitter apple/tabasco combination. And, reward of all rewards, a new bed is purchased (since the old one showed signs of severe discomfort):
Yes, we're very pleased with ourselves.