Tuesday, September 1, 2009

doggie poo bag saves the day

i hate to exercise. i mean hate. like i probably wouldn't start exercising until i gained so much weight my clothes no longer fit. (knock on wood por favor) but lately (since i have been working so much), i feel bad that Cleo has to be locked up in the house all day. so JJ and i have been taking her for little nightly jaunts.

we go to a suburban neighborhood about 2 miles from our house and walk her around "over 5 miles of paved walking trails!" and they even have little stations with doggie poo bags. it's great! we walk for about 40 minutes and she absolutely loves it. yesterday we started our walk in a new place, off the doggie poo bag providing path. and i said "JJ we need a doggie poo bag," and JJ said, "oh stop it, no we don't." then i remembered: i had a leftover doggie poo bag in the cupholder of my car from last time, so i went back and grabbed it. JJ was like "we don't need it, it's fine! hurry up! come on!" but i ignored him and still got the doggie poo bag, then we were on our way.

not long into our walk a young boy on a bike with training wheels saw us and said "hi puppy wuppy can i pet you?" and so we let him pet Cleo. then it happened so fast, we hardly knew what was happeneing...

Cleo walked onto the nearest lawn and was sniffing avidly. then it was the turn around in 3 circles move, then it was the crimped tail straining in the air, and placement of the feet, and release...

and the young boy wails, "oh no doggie, do not poopoo in our lawn!" and he gets all weepy-like. and i'm all KID CALM DOWN IT'S JUST A LITTLE SHIT ON GRASS. then the boy says "papa! papa! the doggie is poopooing on our lawn!" and "papa," a typical dad in typical dad gear, i.e. yellow "Livestrong" t-shirt tucked into khaki cargo shorts with a black belt and teeva sandals, comes riding on HIS bike (complete with baby in the attached seat on the back) and he is silent and staring at me. JJ gets all weird and awkward and says, "get your dog, L" (WHY IS SHE ALWAYS "MY DOG" IN SITUATIONS SUCH AS THESE?) so i say to the young boy, "oh now now, it's ok little one, lookie what i have?" and i pull out the magic doggie poo bag and scoop up the incriminating pile. (and of course it's a little runny this time and makes a stain in the grass) "you see? it's all gone now, we'll see ya later!" and papa continues to kill us with his silent stare as we GTFOOT.

when we are safely out of papa and young boy's earshot, i say, "well.........???" and JJ says, "WHAT?!" and i sad, "aren't you going to thank me for bringing the doggie poo bag along? we would have totally been screwed without it." he said, "schmmmmfph." i smiled triumphantly.


  1. ok its official. i can't own a dog. how do you pick up the poop with your hand, i know the plastic is there as a buffer but you can still feel the temperature and consistency. vomit is rising in my throat as type. bulghhhhhh.

  2. Agreed. you're blog/life has reaffirmed my attitude on this issue. Dogs are not for me.

  3. When we're out running and Lola poops, I have to carry the doggy poo bag completely in my palm so it doesn't swing around when we're bouncing along. Awful--just awful. I can feel every bump, every degree of warmth, every.....YUCK!


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