Being a Doggy Mama - The Sarcasm Walk

 

Well.

That wasn't what I'd call a nice walk.

I took Puppy Dog out about 40 minutes ago.  We headed off, with him on his extendable leash, sniffing things here and there.

He came and stood by my side at street junctions, and heeled as we crossed the road.

It was all good.

Then he decided to poop on a hedge.  It was about 1.5 feet tall, a little decorative hedge, about a foot across, around a tree.  Of course, the minute I tried to scoop the poop, it fell down into the hedge and, although my hand was protected by the bag, I got poop smears up my arm.

Delightful.

I decided to go up to the open park, which he loves.  I don't usually take him there, and you'll soon find out why.

Squirrel 1 - he listened to me when I said "Leave it!" and stood still.

But Squirrel 2 was obviously too much.  He sprinted off, ripping the leash out of my hand.  The kazing of the leash burnt my finger, my arm was wrenched out of its socket, and I broke a well-manicured-in-time-for-tomorrow's-job-interview nail.

Fabulous.

Oh, and let's not forget the couple sitting on a nearby bench who thought my scream and disobedient dog were hilarious.

So pleased, dear Sir and Madam, that I could be a source of amusement for you today.

I didn't run after him.  I didn't have to. 

He was stuck in place at the bottom of a large tree he couldn't climb, staring up at a squirrel he couldn't catch, quivering.

I got hold of him, held his snout, said "NO!" again and again, and put him on heel.

Walking with Puppy Dog on heel, when he doesn't want to do it, is difficult.  Eventually I had the leash locked on just the right length to keep him next to me, and I was holding it behind my back, with both hands, to keep hold of him, walking on my left.  When he pulled too much, I stopped and turned my left hip away from him, so he was yanked back into the right position next to me.

But he wasn't interested.  He was pulling, and choking himself.

And so, we waddled down the street:

Block no. 1: Pull. Cough! Cough! Pull. Yank. Pull. Cough! Cough! Pull. Yank.

Block no. 2: Pull. Cough! Cough! Pull. Yank. Pull. Cough! Cough! Pull. Yank.

We must've looked like two nutters dancing to an even nuttier soundtrack.

Then we passed a house with a big yard and a nice fence.  The dogs inside always bark, but I could see one of them and it seemed relaxed, lying down on the front lawn.  I was sure it could see Puppy Dog was on a short leash, and that he wasn't even looking at the dog, or stepping towards its fence.  So I relaxed.

Big mistake.

Just as we reach the end of the yard, the dog lurched forward, barking and growling.  Puppy Dog pulled towards him. 

Oh, joy!

Still holding the leash behind my back, I was almost pulled off-balance trying to hang on, and had visions of kissing the sidewalk.

But, somehow, I held on till the dogs took a breath, and I dragged Puppy Dog down the sidewalk away from the insane guard dog.

Block no. 3: Pull. Cough! Cough! Pull. Yank. Pull. Cough! Cough! Pull. Yank.

Eventually, in the middle of the fourth block, he stopped pulling.  Thank God.

So, on block 5, I let him have the run of the full leash - about 12 feet.

And on we went.

Then, suddenly, he squatted for what I call an "Auxiliary Poop." This is when he has dropped a big volume already but, for some reason, has to add an appendix to his oeuvre.  No problem, I'll just get my reserve bag---

No bag.

It must've fallen out of my pocket.

Oh, lovely!

So there I am, in a nice neighborhood, committing the ultimate dog owner crime.  I walk away from my dog's poop on the grass in front of someone's house.

Screw this, time to turn towards home.

And so we did.