So, this morning I did the unthinkable. I was up before anyone else when Lucy started her relentless whining/barking/whining. On a typical Saturday morning, I would have turned up the music in my ears and sipped my coffee–trying to drown out her noise AND her existence. For some reason, today was different. We had a great time with friends last night, we have a weekend packed with goodness ahead of us, and Nordstrom is having its half yearly sale. In a word, I was loving life.
I found myself, as if willed by a power from with in, putting a coat on over my pjs and eyeing my slippers. Oh it’s fine. Who is going to be out this early? I was propelled down to the basement by this power toward Lucy’s crate. I could not deny what I was about to do. I.Am.Going.To.Take.The.Dog.For.A.Walk.
As I stepped outside into the chilly but pleasant morning, I breathed deeply and closed my eyes for a second. I really have been so unreasonable about this dog. I don’t hate the dog! In fact, I could kind of like her. I let Lucy walk ahead of me as I strolled and sipped my coffee. Chris really has her trained very well. Walking a dog is so easy. What the heck do the kids whine for every day? Sheesh.
About a block into our three block walk, Lucy stops but won’t come when I call her. For a second, I am scared because she has gotten herself into this crazy, unnatural position. She is crouched on her hind legs, hovering and shaking a little. What the….??
Then I get it. She is taking a crap.
Oh. Hell. No.
I was taking her for a walk for EXERCISE and maybe to make a little tinkle. Picking up a squishy dog crap was not in my “life-is-grand-I-will-do-anything-for-husband” script. I looked around at the silent, pristine, neighborhood. Not one sound could be heard. Not one car had rumbled by the entire time we were out.
Lucy finished her business and I literally saw steam coming up from her pile in the grass. The grass is part of a lawn. A lawn that does not belong to us. I pray that the poop will be sucked into the ground before our neighbors have a chance to notice it.
Well, it turns out that Lucy has chosen the patch of lawn, on the neighbors lawn, that is about a foot away from their newspaper. This is the very Saturday morning paper that a nice elderly man in a robe and slippers comes out to retrieve. At precisely the moment I was running away from the dog crap I should have been picking up.
He catches my eye.
Not only did I not have any intention of picking the poop up, I DID NOT HAVE A BAG.
I was paralyzed frozen to the ground, poop on one side and neighbor I barely know on the other. The paper he picked up is hanging by his side.
My choices are;
a. keep walking and pretend that I don’t know Lucy did her business on his lawn.
b. acknowledge the fact there is dog poo on this man’s lawn and confess that I really had/have no intention of picking it up.
Well, you know what happens to me when I am nervous. I ramble.
“Morning! Hey how are you? Nice to see you! Gorgeous day huh?” I feel him staring at the crap.
“So crazy, I NEVER really take the dog for a walk. In fact, I don’t even like the dog. I don’t really know how it is that we own the dog. I think I was in a coma the day that decision was made and well since she is not my dog I don’t really know what the routine is and I am only walking her today because we had this really great night last night and I was in such a good mood and well Chris really does SO much for me and I thought I could do this little thing for him and…..”
While he is allowing my tirade to go on and on. Mr. Neighbor has quietly unsheathed his newspaper. Wordlessly, he hands me the bag that paper had been in and turns on his heel to march up his drive.
Now I am standing alone with a dog crap on my left and an empty bag in my right hand.
Just as I bend to do the deed, I look up. Mr. N is at his window, peering at me from behind the curtain. And..what is he doing? It takes me a second but then my heart sinks.
He is standing at his window. Watching me struggle to bring myself to do the unthinkable. Laughing his full head off.
As I shuffle home, shoulders down, my new mantra is: I hate this flippin’ dog. And I have come to accept three undeniable truths.
1. Dog’s live a really long time. 2. Chris adores this dog. 3. I just don’t adore my husband that much.