Bags

For as long as weather will permit, the dog gets a little walk around the block first thing every day. I crawl out of bed, slide on my Rainbows, and grab the leash before opening the front door for him to bolt out. We live on the second floor, so he runs ahead of me down the stairs to the exit to the street. That’s where the leash goes on.

I probably won’t be doing this once it requires socks. Definitely not once a coat is required. Or gloves, or a hat. We bought him a Puppy Apartment and we keep it well supplied with pads. But it’s beautiful every morning now, so what’s the trouble really?

The trouble is the dog messes with me, and it’s making us broke. His leash holds a spool of poop bags, and ever since this morning walk routine started I’ve been using 2-3 of them every time out. I’ve reordered boxes of them twice since June!

He’s trolling me. We’ll walk about 50 yards from the front door down the sidewalk where he’ll crouch and do what he’s here to do. Dutifully, I will pick it up with one of the bright green bags and we will move along back toward our building. But invariably, within a couple of minutes–bam!–he’s crouching again and I’m un-spooling a second bag. It has been known to happen a third time.

Today I took him the other way around the block, where there are patches of grass on which he can linger. If he’s going to double up, at least I can wait before picking up the first one so I only have to use one bag. I waited. And waited. After about three minutes I concluded that today must be a one-off and I made the pickup and tied off the bag. Wouldn’t you know that less than a minute later, right on the front doorstep, he made me use a second bag?

I’m being trolled by a toy poodle.