Monday, January 24, 2011


More in the annals of dog-dom and then I’ll quit the subject for awhile.   Walking my hounds this morning I realized they each address the art of defecation in different ways. 

Dog 1, Napoleon, hunkers down and does his business with uninhibited, unashamed gusto.   The expression on his face is relaxed.  His tongue is lolling.  He’s panting slightly, obviously enjoying himself.   Finished, he bounds happily away. 

Dog 2, Louie, squats and strains as if resigned.   He occasionally squints up at you as if to make sure you’re not going to attack him while his guard is down.   Activity completed, he steps forward, kicks dirt back on the offending pile and then, as if to say he’s had nothing to do with it, trots away. 

And finally there’s my mother in law’s dog, Russell.   Russell drops his butt and immediatly begins looking in all directions as if mortified someone might see him.  He looks at you, looks away, then looks back as if hoping you’ve left.   He takes little steps forward as if trying to get away from each individual turd as it drops.  I sense that sometimes he quits before he’s finished.  

Enjoyment.  Resignation.  Embarrassment.  The only thing similar in these dogs morning rituals is I’m the one who cleans up after them.   And as I do, I wonder what is says about me that I’ve finally come to ponder, and write about, the bowel movements of canines.

Addendum 1
My idiots saw a rabbit this morning and just about dragged me across the field before I could get them off leash.  They proceeded to steam shovel through the undergrowth, besides themselves with excitment and at the thought of fresh meat.  I was reminded of the old Bugs Bunny cartoon where Elmer Fudd, as Wotan, sings along to Richard Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries - Kill da wabbit, kill da wabbit, kill da wabbit!!!  Fortunately the dogs don't sing.

Addendum 2
As mentioned my wife is training a service dog, a ten week old puppy.   Like babies, puppies are cute enough that you don't throw them out.   Unlike babies, puppies have teeth like needles.   I picked up said puppy this morning - I don't know what possessed me - and the sprightly beast proceeded to bite me right on the nose.   Blood ensued and I fear there will be permanent scarring.

Men live lives of quiet desperation

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