Today was the first day of two weeks of time off from my job at the major Bay Area public radio station. I celebrated first by going back to bed after Kate left for work this morning, then getting up and doing a work project for my employer that I had promised to do before my vacation started but couldn't fit in to my normal hours. I understand from a colleague who was home sick that it was a really nice day today. I saw at various points of the late morning and afternoon that it was sunny and clear outside, but by the time I had finished the project, the sun had set in a coral blaze and the moon had risen. The Dog had yet to be taken for a walk.
So as the dusk deepened, we headed out, as soon as I rustled up a check I had to mail. As we walked up the adjacent block on our street, I realized that although I had brought a leash and a light--the latter to help me locate any waste the revered dog might leave along our path--I had forgotten to bring plastic bags to remove said revered waste. "The hell with it," I thought. "Maybe I won't need the bags."
We walked down to the nearby shopping area, where there's a mailbox. I mailed the check, and we walked up the block. In front of a very nice-looking salon, at the base of a tree directly in front of a window where a woman was getting done up, I saw The Dog assume his waste-dropping position. Perfect. I didn't have bags, and I wasn't going to pick up what was being deposited without them. I thought, "Of course I assume everyone's looking at this when no one really is." Nonetheless, I got between the window and The Dog and bent over as if I was about to do the civic duty incumbent upon me after the biological duty that had just been performed. Then I stood up straight and walked away, The leavings weren't on the sidewalk, and I resolved to come back, maybe, and look for the crap in the dark.
A half-block farther up, same routine, except not in front of a nice salon. The dark, steaming canine waste nuggets came to rest on the sidewalk, so I covered them with leaves and brushed them with my foot to the base of a tree. Out of harm's way from a human pedestrian's point of view; and objects of immense interest from the perspective of other dogs that would soon happen that way.
I sometimes wonder, as I pick up bag after bag of dog byproduct on our daily walks, how come so much of it doesn't get picked up. Well, this is how: You forget to bring a bag, or you honestly don't see what's going on in the dark, or you figure it's out of everyone's way. I figure it's OK. There'll be more to scoop up tomorrow, and tomorrow might be another sunny day, and I won't have any work-type work projects in front of me.
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