Thursday, May 9, 2019

Adventures in Dog Walking


Time flies…when you’re scooping poop.

This is a blunt way to start a blog post, yes. But I do like to keep it real here.

We’ve had our new dog for three months. I’m not a dog expert, by any stretch of the imagination. But we’ve kept her alive and she’s happy, and that counts for something.

We did some training classes through Petco. Six one-hour group sessions. A little bit like preschool for dogs. Socialization. Learning the rules. Rewards for good behavior. And finger/paw painting. (Okay, not really, but that could be a cool teachnique, now that I think about it.)

I thought I’d share a few funny tales from our first three months. Yes, many of them involve doggy poop, so if you’re squeamish, we’ll see you at the next blog post (which will not involve anything gross). But I hope you’ll stick around because doesn’t everyone need a few laughs?


This sign was posted downtown years ago.
I found it hilarious that it referred to the "nuisance."

Speed Walks.

Our dog has two speeds on walks: meander, and race. When she meanders, time spent and distance covered have no relationship to each other. If she needs to sniff every inch of a ten-foot sidewalk, this could take five minutes. On those walks her path looks like this: 



But when she’s in the mood to go fast, she races forward like she’s a caffeinated Husky pulling a dog sled. You’re going on a run, when you really want to go on a walk.

No Sudden Moves.

The dog and I have discussed this before walks. I tell her there are to be no sudden moves and no jerking of the leash. She gazes soulfully into my eyes and pants (which I misinterpret as agreement). And soon after, while on a walk, I glance to the side for a fraction of a second and suddenly my arm is being yanked out of the socket by a very sudden move by the dog. Is she chasing a cat? Another dog? A figment of her imagination? Who cares? Because now I have a sore shoulder!


Now a few tales on the art to picking up dog poop. I’m an artist, yes, but I’m artistically challenged when it comes to the art of the poop scoop.

Poop Chronicles, Part 1: Make sure your bag is actually…a bag.

(This may seem obvious but I promise you, you will thank me.) This lesson was learned one night when I attempted to pick up some dog poop by using the bag as a flat sheet of plastic. (Don’t do this. Please.) In my defense, it wasn’t my first choice of methods. I was using a new type of doggy bag. Our first roll ran out and I was doing a dry run with the new bags. (Wet run, more like it.) At that point I still naively believed that if it was labeled as a bag, there would be an end that opens. (Silly me.)

It wasn’t actually night yet. It was twilight, so I felt I could see what I planned to grab. I didn’t have my phone (with its light) with me because my clothes didn’t have pockets (rant about women’s clothes and the lack of pockets—for a future blog). So, a perfect storm is brewing:

1) It’s almost dark.
2) I don’t have a light.
      3) I have a “bag” that isn’t actually a bag. It’s a plastic red rectangle.

What could go wrong?

Our sweet dog does her business and I’m trying to open the bag with one hand (the other hand being busy gripping the leash of this 77-pound force). I try and try. I must have tried for three or four minutes. I try all sides. The thing won’t open. So I decide that I will simply grab the poo using the plastic sheet as a barrier, similar to how you’d use the blue plastic sheet at the grocery store when getting a Kaiser roll from the bakery box. Sanitary. Straightforward. No problem.

Except that Kaiser rolls do not change shape as you grab them. Doggy poop does. I realize (too late) that I now have my sweet dog’s not-so-sweet poo on my hand. I have to hold the leash with one hand and the ball of poo with the other. (Now, stop worrying. Three fingers got…contaminated. Not the whole hand. But still.) I had about two blocks to walk home with this mess, and I was trying not to get queasy, not to breathe too deeply, and not to think about what was on my hand. Lesson learned: it is not recommended to use a bag as a plastic sheet.

(Side note: I have since learned to pre-open the bags before the walk. Sometimes I have to cut them open. Sure, part of me is a little annoyed that these bags don’t open more easily—if at all—but these are small problems.)


The bag that won't open.
Actually just a rectangle of plastic.



The other kind of bag imposter is actually a tube of plastic with no sealed end.

Poop Chronicles, Part 2: Dog bags are not seaweed.
(What, you need further explanation?) It seems I learned something from the situation described above. One night I brought two bags when walking the dog—just in case. Yes, I was still using the same funky bags (sometimes they open, sometimes they don’t)—hey, I don’t like to waste! And once again, the bag would not open. I had two bags but because neither would open, I had the genius idea to kind of surround the dog poo with bags, one on the left, one on the right. I rolled the whole thing to and fro so as to pick it up without getting stuff on my hands (again). It reminded me a little (not a lot but a little) of the one and only time I attempted to make sushi, rolling the column of rice inside the seaweed wrapper. This technique is not ideal, but unlike using one bag as a sheet of plastic, the two bag rolling method can work in a pinch.

Poop Chronicles, Part 3: Long spring grass.
It’s spring and grass is growing fast. When your dog picks long grass as her preferred pooping location, you have an extra challenge. You must pick it up, because you are a responsible dog owner. You must. But removing poop from long spring grass is like removing spaghetti from pasta sauce. There’s no unmixing it.

Jokes aside, we love having our dog in our lives. We are not sure how we ever survived without her. She gives so much love, and is truly sweet, and so appreciative. She makes us laugh every day, with her Play Dead pose, on her back, paws in the air. Sore shoulders, hair-covered floors and poop bag misadventures don’t take away her shine. We adore her and she is here to stay.