I am SO sorry

You're going to embarrass me again, aren't you?

If you are dog owners and/or walkers, you probably will may appreciate this. If you are not, I suggest moving on to one of my gardening blogs. Or the latest installment of "Here Comes Honey Boo Boo."

This last week of October -- the one right before the end of Daylight Savings Time -- is a particularly perilous time in the lives of early morning dog walkers.

It's dark.

Dark. Dark. Dark.

Compound the problem with a cloud cover laden with precipitation and lawns littered with fallen leaves and pine cone, shadowed and shimmering after waves of nocturnal rain showers, and you have a serious challenge on your hands.

Literally.

Even with a flashlight, I have failed to locate Ben's morning offerings THREE consecutive days this week.

I am SO sorry, good neighbors. Please don't hate me. (Although I did rid the park of a couple errant pine cones Wednesday morning.)

Fortunately, Ben is a modest dog and tends to take care of his business, behind tree or shrug, in the most far-off, obscure spots he can find in the park. This tends to somewhat minimize the Public Land Mine issue, which I know is at the forefront of your mind. So we've got that going for us. Which is good.

Most responsible dog walkers I know pride themselves on picking up after their pooches, protecting the soccer cleats and running shoes of the world. I know I do. We are a near-hysterical lot when it comes to this, eyes constantly scanning our pups for any sign that "Bombs away!" is imminent.

Yep. I'm one of the Ninety-nine Percent-ers -- that is, the peeps who pick up dog poop 362 out of 365 days a year. (Disclaimer: Well within the most recent Bermtopian sampling error.) So there you have it. I'm one of The 99%.

Say it loud and proud.

If anything, I have become quite the little sanctimonious so-and-so when coming across someone else's failure to observe the Very Clearly Defined boundaries canine fecal etiquette, usually mentally condemning them to an eternity of shedding dogs for their oversight. Is that so bad?

But, this week, oh, how the mighty have fallen. And oh, how can this old girl hardly wait for Daylight Savings to end (did I really just saying that? slap me, please)  so we get a little more light on The Subject each morning!

But I'm getting back on my game. I triumphed Thursday morning. Only by stalking and hovering over poor Ben like a demonic poop vampire. (Okay, so now THAT was indelicate.)

The dog was mortified. Me? Not so much.

Along with the soccer cleats and running shoes of the world.

Wise guy!

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.

BUT.

Could he find a patch of grass like this?

Or this?

No. This week, the place where Ben went bombs-away looked like this:

Dude!
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."

Pranked by a dog. What a wise guy!

The end.