O.M.G.! I just realized it's been almost TWO months since I've thrown all good taste to the wind and posted about poop.
Well, be of good cheer. I'm about to correct THAT mistake.
It suddenly occurred to me this morning: I've been the victim of a week-long canine prank, courtesy of you-know-who. Here's how it went:
Every day this week, Ben has seen fit to take care of His Business the minute we arrive at the park.
That's one heck of a field 'o pine cones.
Don't you think they look just a teentsy-weentsy like, um, you know what?
Characteristically, Ben had No Comment.
Here, wait s second.
Let me adjust the screen a little so you get a sense of what I was looking
at 7 in the morning:
I think you get the picture.
Me trying to find dog poop in a situation like this is a little like Cortes and his ill-fated quest for El Dorado.
But I do love a challenge: So off I went -- every. . .flippin'. . . morning. . . this. . . week -- mumbling to myself like a crazy woman, carefully sorting through the "vegetation" in a hopeless search for Ben's Business in a sea of dark pine cones.
I think I went 1 for 3.
Ben. Enjoying a good laugh -- and at least an extra 10 minutes' worth of park time.
Me. The unwitting participant in a dog's twisted scatological version of "Where's Waldo."