Three Dog Night
It has been over a year and a half since my husband and I have lived in the same state, much less the same house. To say that we are going through a period of adjustment is probably a bit of an understatement.
To say that our 90 pound Golden Retriever, Gimli, is going through a period of adjustment is almost insulting to his dignity.
Gimli is, for the most part, an Island dog. Raised on the beaches and trails of Block Island he is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a city dog. Gimli considers himself to be a 'work dog'. I use that term loosely. He loves to go to work with my carpenter husband, where he sits in or under the Jeep (depending on time of year and degrees per square inch of fluffy Golden hair) for up to ten or twelve hours at a time, rarely moving, usually sleeping and always happy to be outdoors. He's not even an old dog. Just a Golden.
Here, he is happy to be with his family. He really is. We have not seen each other for some time and I am more than happy to take him for walks around the neighborhood and let him crowd me out of my side of the bed. It's not like I haven't had practice with that. Although I must admit that taking an adventurous and athletic (by breed, not necessarily by personality) dog for walks on the beach and down the trails where one meets other socialized dogs and their happy-to-be-there owners is quite a bit different than having to take your dog on two walks a day, rain or snow, sleet or sunshine, soon to be below zero temps (for all those people who ask "Do you know how cold it is in Minnesota?" I have to reply "Um, not very. Do YOU?"), crossing the street when other dogs and their owners approach, plastic bag in hand.
Speaking of which, I may have mentioned before - like a year ago - that I take a certain amount of pride in responsible pet ownership. Folks, I pick up after my dog. Every damn time. I have emergency plastic bags in my car, my purse, my inner coat pockets. I clean up outside my fourplex and anywhere else the dog may choose to go. Obviously there are dog owners who do NOT take pride in their pet ownership.
I don't get it. There is no pride in getting away with leaving a deposit of steaming dog crap in somebody else's yard. Are there people so dense that they didn't realize their dogs shit? Whenever and wherever they have to? I have watched and taken mental note of the regular offenders around here. The ones that always walk at 7:15 in the morning and again well after dark (hey, at least they walk 'em, right?), never with that plastic bag hanging from their hands. Always at times they think nobody can see them. I wonder if these people have ever realized that they're expending two or three times the energy in avoiding cleaning up after their dogs than they would just by scooping the poop.
You know, I bet if I followed these people for a day or two (not that I would - I don't have the energy to be a stalker) I would find out that these are the same losers who LEAVE THEIR SHOPPING CARTS IN THE PARKING SPACES!!!!!
Anyway, I love having my dog here....
posted by The Warbler | 1/07/2007 10:02:00 AM
6 Comments:
I followed them.
Three days and three nights of shadowing these pooper non-scoopers to see what other atrocities they commited. Three days and three nights of furtive moves, stale donuts, tepid coffee and ....yes, videotape.
I saw them in the store parking lot leaving carts behind and sometimes just carelessly shoving them off allowing the carts to chaotically careen through the lot.
I followed them to the movies where they spoke on their cellphones during the film and left crumpled popcorn containers behind when they abandoned their seats.
I followed them to church, yes, they do go to church and there they took money OUT of the collection plate.
I followed them to --- well actually the rest in unprintable---you'll just have to use your imagination.
What did I learn from this you ask?
I learned that I look pretty darn good in a trenchcoat and sunglasses.
10-4 over and out.
I am ashamed of myself. I thought I was playing my part in the circle of life, just providing fertiizer for the world.
Whoa - wait just a gosh durn minute there - a dawg's gotta doo what a dawg's gotta doo...You'll be hearin' from 'Friends of Feces' soon enough. Gimli, get on board brother, times a wastin' (so to speak).
" Have no fear, Underdog is here!" This said in my nasal twang. I am here to tell all you dawgs that as part of my on-going program of righting all wrongs in the world, all you humans will be forthwith relieved of your duties as pooper-scoopers.
Leave it where it lies,
and I in my cape and boots will fly,
to the rescue and take all deposits to that repository in the sky!
Once up there it will be turned into rancid rain to be hurled down upon all you doggie-doo do-gooders!
Correction to above post, It has been so long since I was called upon to doo good I had forgotten my true motto! It should have read, "There's no need to fear, Underdog is here!" Whew, now I feel better.
To scoop, or not to scoop: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of poop,
And by scooping end it?
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