The Dark Side of Dog Walking

I carry the garbage bag like a badge of honor, dangling it in my right hand so all can see it. I want to make sure that any passing neighbors or window witches staring as I walk my dog, Darcy, have no doubt whatsoever that I cleanup after her.

Through the grapevine, I heard that a dog owner, just a few doors down from where I live, never cleans up after her pooch. I can’t blame her. Bagging dog shit ranks up there with colonoscopies and anal exams. In short, I find it gross and disgusting.

But it goes with being a dog owner. In my town, they passed a law requiring dog walkers to pick up after their dog. If you don’t and you get caught, the town will fine you $100 for each incident.

Cleaning up after your dog makes sense if she poops in front of someone’s mailbox or in the middle of a driveway. Who wants to walk into that by accident? However, given that I live in the boonies, I think the crap can safely rest in peace in some spots, alongside the moose, bear and deer droppings. And that is where I draw the line. 

If Darcy craps in a secluded space, well off the road and not near any homes…and if no one sees her (other than me), I let the poop lie and allow nature to takes its course in the disintegration process. Now I have to figure out how to train her to poop only in those hidden spots.

So for now, I swing that garbage bag, scoop up the poop and literally hold my nose. 

Me and My Shadow Follow The Same Path

They say people and their dogs often resemble one another. Think of the tall man with the tiny Chihuahua – a likeness of sorts.

Darcy definitely acts like my dog, gravitating to me even when others are around. I don’t think we look alike, although her eyes have a familiarity. But as time progresses I have noticed similarities.

One night, as I lay in bed and Darcy lay on her bed nearby, she sneezed. A few seconds later, I sneezed. Hmmm, I thought. Weird.

Then the other night as I lay on the couch watching TV with Darcy laying on the floor next to me, I stretched and made an ahhh sound. A couple seconds later Darcy stretched and made an ahhh sound.  Double weird, I thought.

Darcy follows me around the house, like my daemon. When I go upstairs she goes upstairs. As I work on the computer, she lies by my desk.

What I now notice, though, is that in those rare instances when she does not follow me, I pause, look around perplexed and call her name. Balance to my world returns when she comes by my side.

I just hope we don’t start howling at the moon.

Adios Mi Amigo

We had to say good-by to our big boy, Jasper. He started having seizures that began increasing in frequency. After the third seizure, we knew the time had come to have him euthanized.

At age 15, he had lived a long, good life and exceeded the age expectations for a dog his size by three years. But, we struggled with making the final decision.

That morning we took him for the regular 2-mile trek. He did great: walking, playing in the snow, enjoying his treats, and providing his adopted sister, Darcy, with a buddy whose ears she could chew on.   

When we arrived at the vet’s office, we questioned our decision even in those last moments. But in our gut, we knew it needed to be done. The vet sedated him to calm him down before euthanizing him. As if Jasper knew our hesitation, he had his final seizure while under sedation, giving us more evidence of his illness and showing us the compassion of our decision. He received the lethal injection in the midst of the seizure. 

The vet told us he probably had a brain tumor and that we made the right decision. What can I say other than we all miss him. For 15 years, he played a major role in our family and we loved him. I keep looking for ways to say good-by.

When Is A Leg A Tree?

Jasper with the tempting tree legs behind.

On a wintry day, my husband, JF, and I ventured out with our two hounds to take our daily constitutional. With the warm sun and cold air we decided to extend our walk and venture further – on the dirt road, past the sheep farm, and into bear country.

Our dogs, Jasper and Darcy, sniffed and smelled along the way, marking their scent, as well. I marveled at how well Jasper, at age 13, handled these walks.  He kept pace with JF, who gently guided him on the leash.

On the return, the dogs paused periodically to take in the different smells and mark their own scents. During one such pause, I noticed Jasper gently twist the leash behind my husband and move into an unusual position. And then it dawned on me what was coming next. I tried to provide a warning but could not formulate the words. When I finally uttered the expletive, Jasper had already lifted his leg and started the steady stream of pee on the back of JF’s leg.

In disbelief we looked at the wet line snaking down JF’s jeans, starting just below the back of his knee. Jasper looked unfazed by our raised voices and choice words. This old dog responded to nature’s calling. He just chose to respond to the nearest limb, which unfortunately for JF, was not a tree.

The rest of the way home, JF felt a chill from low and behind.

What if People Knew DogSpeak?

I know my dogs lack human intelligence but sometimes I really wonder about people smarts and all it’s cracked up to be. In the wake of hurricane Sandy, I overheard a conversation about food scarcity at grocery stores in the Big Apple.

Dog intelligence.

One woman, middle-aged and obviously well to do, commented that she did not see why this was such an issue. “In my home, I have enough food to last at least a month!” The conversation grew more appalling when another woman explained, “Well, in the city everyone eats out.”

HELLO! As a Bronx girl, I can assure you that not everyone in NYC eats out. Other factors contribute to why food shortage becomes problematic. All of a sudden I heard a voice say clearly and emphatically, ”Not everyone can afford to buy a month’s or, for that matter, even a day's worth of food. Plus, many people in the city live in postage-size apartments and don't have the luxury of freezers and pantries, which would allow them to stockpile food.” By the way, I was the voice – didn’t win any friends there.

But it got me thinking how out of touch people are with reality. It reminded me of the French Revolution and the statement Let them eat cake, often attributed to Marie Antoinette as her solution to the peasants' inability to procure bread.

Then I started thinking about the Republican Party following this election. I thought the Rolling Stones song Out of Time and the line You’re out of touch, my baby, perfectly defined their relationship with the American public.

Back to my dogs. What they lack in human intelligence they make up for in direct communication that makes logical connections. Barking for Feed me, Walk me, Pet me, or I hate that cat, dogs speak clearly when they have something to say. You just have to listen. I can’t say the same about people. What comes out of their mouth often makes no sense.

Sometimes the wisdom of dogs baffles my mind.