Dog Running, Part the Third

I also learned how dogs poop, at least this one. When she squatted, K.L. bowed her legs in such a way that she appeared ready to execute some ballet move whose name I cannot pronounce. It looked downright dainty, until her poops squeezed out. Two good-sized pieces, about the length of a candy bar each.

There is an advertisement (pronounced add-vur-tiz-mint in the British fashion, because I am a downright fop) for a can of cooled gases that quickly freezes animal feces. Yes, this product was marketed towards pet owners that wanted to pick up their pet waste in one clump. I thought that was ridiculous, until I inverted the bag around my hand and tried picking up K.L.'s gentle goodness. My first pincer grab pinched it in half. The second started smearing it onto the verdant grass. Finally, with a full palm attempt, I got the entire morass into the bag, flipped the bag back around, and proceeded to carry it for fifteen minutes because I could not find a "doggie station."

When your main concern is not losing a dog, you do not have time to worry about where you are going. K.L. ran circles around me, ran my arm behind my back so I had to pirouette mid-stride just to untangle. (Side note: Yes, I would have made a beautiful ballerina.) At one point, I tried dragging K.L. away from a pile of crusty dog poop by turning and walking away. Took three steps and a ridiculous tug almost knocked me down. K.L. had run around a pole, leaving me to have to drag her, and it. Ha, ha, ha. Hah.

At one point, we came upon another dog, quite demure, perhaps half K.L.'s size, and the owner. Upon sight, K.L. stutter-stepped, then beelined towards the faint chocolate colored dog, the same hue as K.L.'s earlier poop, still in my hand. I had to apologize to the other owner, then drag K.L. away, both hands gripping the leash, my body tilted thirty degrees away from verticality.

When we finally returned to home base, I let K.L. inside and closed the door. She went nuts, rocketing around the apartment like her tail was aflame.

Right now, she's a little tuckered out, and so am i. Still, in another twenty minutes, we're going to go for another walk. Even though she's curled up on the couch, her stark eyes all droopy, her nose tilted towards the ground, I have to take her out, because of one simple fact. Even though K.L. made her poopies, not once did she lift her leg to peepee.