Friday, October 3, 2008


This blog was mostly created for "Semester at Sea", but I can't help but include some fun anecdotes from my own life before our voyage. I think pet lovers might appreciate this story:

One of my favorite things about living with a roommate for the first time in ten years is the fact that I get to walk her dogs. At first I was apprehensive about all the pets, I mean-between the two of us there are three cats and two dogs. We are barely pushing mid-thirties and we are the crazy cat & dog ladies?! Nah, it’s really not like that. There have only been a few cat-fights thus far (between the CATS, not between Caroline and me), but other than that it’s been harmonious living.

So last night I was geared up to walk the pooches. One happy-go-lucky black poodle named Gigi and one sweet, doe-eyed, tan-colored cocker spaniel named Moose. They are both geriatric dogs, over 75 in dog years, but you would never know it based on the energy levels.

Okay, let me make sure I have everything:
· Leash for Gigi? Check.
· Leash for Moose? Check.
· Caribiner with keys connected to Moose’s leesh? Check.
· Bag for discarding poop. Oohh. Oops, let me grab one. Okay I have a bag from “Buttercup Bakery”. When I was getting my Indian visa the other day I was in the neigbhorhood and simply *had* to have a golden delicious cupcake (yes, I made it sound like an apple. I’m dieting leave me alone here…) with buttercream frosting (absolutely no way to make that one sound like a piece of fruit….instead I’ll keep it sugar-coated, thank you very much.) I digress. So where were we? Oh, right. The bag. For the dog poop. The Buttercup Bakery bag.

Alright, so my checklist is complete and off we go. The dogs are RACING down the stairs. The condo is on the 4th floor of a walk-up so we go flying down, leashes intertwined, pups flying, and Laurie tumbling down after, Jack & Jill style. This is not an uncommon occurance. The tumbling, that is. Quite often I trip over my own two feet. Which I don’t understand. I mean there is no need for tripping- I am well equipped for dog walking. I have on sneakers, and still my work clothes, so my attire is not dissimilar from Melanie Griffith circa “Working Girl”.

At any rate, tangled leashes and all we make it out the door. First block: safe. No other dogs in sight, no pooping going on yet, and no running into the street. I even managed to untangle the leashes.
Second block. Uh oh. Here goes moose, squatting in a corner. He finishes doing his business and I reach down with the bag to pick it up, all the while gagging and holding my breath, trying not to breath it in. Slippery little suckers! Okay, I get each chunk of poop in the bag and off we go.

Now’s where it gets tricky. The leashes are retractable and I am trying to squeeze them so they don’t have too much slack for the dogs to run out into the street. In addition to holding down the little button on the leashes, I am trying to hold the bag of poop as far away from myself as possible and I can’t discard it, because Gigi might poop too and I only brought one Buttercup bag. And poop she does. At the next block. So I lean down to pick it all up, still squeezing the retractable leash buttons and the leashes twisting all around each other once again. Somehow without vomiting, I get all of it in a bag. Now I just have to find a trash receptacle. Sidenote: one of my biggest complaints about my old neighborhood uptown was the fact that no one cleaned up after their dogs, and now I can understand why, ALTHOUGH I would never be one to neglect an important responsibility, so I guess I can’t understand, after all. But it was a little tempting just to leave the poop and run. I mean no one was looking. But nope, my morals are too imporant. Just can’t do it.

Okay. Walking. Walking. Walkling. Oh crap, another dog! RUNNING! BARKING! LEAPING! The leashes are twisted. The bag of poop is twisted in with the leashes and….. Here we gooooooooooooooooooo!!!!

Okay, other dog hangs a left on Adams Street and we calm down. Trying to untagle the leashes. Still have the bag of poop. That would be when handsome man in suit stops to say hello. Well helloooooo there! Batting the eyelashes. Catching my breath. Untangling the leashes. Dangling the poop bag.

Handsome man in suit: “Hi. I see you have buttercup cupcakes. I love those.”
Me: “Umm…..actually it’s just a bag full of dogshit.”

We laugh for a moment. I untangle the leashes. I find a trash can. And we head back to watch the Vice Presidential debate.

I love my life. I wouldn’t change a doggawn thing.

1 comment:

LJ said...

Love it :) Too bad you're in NJ. Dixie would love a pupcakes pal!