And Other Pooch Presents
Our new place comes with a nifty neighborhood and tons of exercise enthusiasts. Hikers, bikers and joggers abound. I have been trying to learn the neighborhood by taking the pups out for walks, which has led to the start of an awesome new routine… As I lace up my jogging shoes true puppy pandemonium breaks loose. Bella starts squealing and Prada starts heavy panting and bouncing (think 96 pounds of toe crushing). As I move closer to their leashes their hysteria increases. Bella alternates between circle spinning and 2 legged vertical leaps, while Prada prefers facial steaming and strong nose poking for any dawdling.
Because we have never attempted any dog training (unless yelling and arm waving count as training) when I open the front door the girls hit the end of their leashes at 90 mph, dragging me backwards as I attempt to lock up behind us. I repress the urge to yell any obscenities as my arm is dislocated from my shoulder because I think my neighbors might be watching. And we’re still trying to maintain a respectable appearance. (Ha!)
Bella spends each trip racing ahead, gaining precious seconds that allow her to squat and mark every blade of grass possible. How a 6 pound pooch can have three liters of fluid on board is beyond me… It’s insane, our atleast the 8th Wonder of the World. Little Bella has mastered fast forward, pause, fast forward, pause but occasionally her pause runs to long and she gets an unexpected rewind sequence as I accidentally jerk her off the ground. Poor little Poochita. Note to self: Shop a padded harness for Skittle brain.
Prada’s leash issues include her inability to walk a straight path and a strong tendency to veer into oncoming traffic. Obviously it’s time to see the Puppy Chiropractor. Prada seems to think playing chicken with fast moving vehicles makes the trip more entertaining.
Just as we are out of sight of the house it’s poop time. Bella makes tootsie rolls and a few minutes later Prada, after finding the only yard where the neighbors are sitting outside, deposits something more closely resembling a dinosaur dump. I try to pretend all is kosher as I retrieve her 8 pounds of poop with a grocery sack, aka poo receptacle, and keep trucking. (Each time I have to decide if it’s better to leave a few smudges behind or just yank out all the grass… Then, should I alternate holding the shit sack in both hands, thus allowing both arms a workout, or simply not risk the contamination? )
The last quarter mile of our trip is my most favorite because it’s great fun carrying that steaming, glorious 8 pound sack of poop. I try to turn up my head phones but, as you can imagine, that doesn’t really help the smell… The temptation to race up someone's drive and toss our little present in their trash can is super intense however, we are abstaining for now until I can teach one of the dogs to do it while I pretend to look busy tying my shoe ;)
On our most recent trip I met our neighbor down the way, her name is Pansy. She’s approximately 105 years old and still driving. When she asked me for my name she exclaimed, “Oh! What a cute name!” Bella and I giggled at the irony of that for a few seconds and then peed in her yard. (Bella, not me.)