DON'T FORGET TO LAUGH
Much Ado About Dog Poo
There is a bag of dog poo in my refrigerator. Wanna’ come over for dinner? Actually, it’s a present for the vet, from my pound puppy, Ginny. I don’t know if it needs to be refrigerated or not. I threw it in there just to be safe. Yes, it is wrapped in plastic, wrapped in plastic, wrapped in plastic.
Since both my boys are away at school, Ginny, my dear sweet furry lump of love, gets all my attention. She’s loving the doggie treats, belly rubs, and long evenings playing Pictionary. “Yes, it’s ‘barf.’ ” Good dog
Some say pets are substitutes for children. This is ridiculous. They are not interchangeable. My kids never sniffed strangers’ crotches and my dog, despite special classes, still flunked the SAT. Besides, I treat Ginny much better.
While my sons were sent off to sleep in their own rooms, Ginny is allowed to sleep in my bed. I believe she thinks she’s allowing me to sleep in her bed, for she frequently nudges me ‘til I find myself clinging to the edge of the mattress, while she stretches out in the center. She doesn’t push me off because she loves me or because she knows I feed her.
Spending my days covered with long, blond dog fur is a privilege. It’s free hair extensions for the entire body. (Sexy.) I’ve learned not to wear black. Or navy blue. Or brown. Beige is the new black this year, right?
I’m not the only one donning this furry look. There are many about town wearing the hairy badge of puppy love. We have our priorities. Fur-free clothes, houses, and cars are not at the top of the list. If you don’t understand this, I’m so sorry.
Just sit back one evening and enjoy the dog parade as it goes by. Greyhounds, retrievers, mutts, and those adorable Corgis are just a small sample of the four-legged friends who share our lives. Corgis look like shoe polishers to me. Just place your foot under their belly and tell them to roll over, about 200 times. Good dog.
Dogs offer us love, companionship, and prevent us from becoming couch potatoes. They can also cause some pretty embarrassing moments. I remember, yet another, time I thought I may be asked to leave town.
It was a lovely day, as Ginny and I headed down the greenway. I’m no fool. I had my plastic bag to pick up anything my sweetie dropped on the ground. We proceeded in our usual zig-zag form. No straight and narrow is ever good enough for her. There are so many fascinating smells on both sides of the path.
Ginny did what dogs do, and I quickly cleaned up after her. What good citizens we were. When we came to the trash can, I tossed in our contribution. Then we headed up the sidewalk towards home. La, la la, beautiful day. Suddenly, without the prerequisite sniffing, Ginny stopped and pooped in the middle of the sidewalk. I had no bag. Panic.
Only one thing to do. I got a stick from the nearby woods and intended to simply fling the poo into the brush. But the poo was evidently afraid of the bushes. It did not want to leave the pavement. When I pushed with the stick, it simply spun around like a slow, drunken compass. (No, that’s NOT North.)
It turned into a balancing act, as I squatted over my dog’s smelly gift. One outstretched arm was being tugged by Ginny on her leash. With my free hand, I was still scraping with my stick. I was trying not to be pulled over onto the offending log when SHE strolled up the hill like she was walking the red carpet.
SHE is a neighbor who is a perfectly nice person, but I fear we share no common reality. She is always poised, articulate, and confident. I don’t think her dog poops at all. Me? I’m spending a nice day playing a solo game of “Spin the Poo” in the middle of the sidewalk.
She looked down at me pushing poo with a stick, says, “Hello, Carol,” and kept on. Unfortunately, the earth did not open up and swallow me whole. I remained bent over the poo, watching her walk away. I resisted the urge to run after her and explain that I was not a bad person. I really did have a bag earlier. I swear.
But there was still poo to fling and I was destined to be the flinger. Ah ha! With two sticks, I was able to roll the star of the afternoon show into the greenery. How damn clever of me. Perhaps this should be a Science Olympiad event. I’ll suggest it at the next meeting.
Even with this mishap, I still prefer my dog over my children. Ginny never asks for money, she doesn’t roll her eyes at my jokes, and she never says she would rather eat out than have my cooking.
Then again, with poo in the fridge, that might not be such a bad idea.
Carol Wilber Bradfield is one of those "Lake People." She snuck into Davidson many years ago when someone left the gate open one night. If seen, please approach carefully and give her a hug... and cash if you have it. Lots of cash. Thank you.