[An open letter to the dogs on a Monday from a questioning huMom]
Is it just because you’re ‘canoids‘ or because you’re too smart for your own good poodle selves that makes you do things in a contrary way designed to negatively impact the Ranch upright?
“W-H-A-T-E-V-E-R more are talking about?” said two innocent-looking faces. Umm, how about Exhibits A and B. We received about 6-9 inches of snow. In our mountain desert (aka Denver) snowfall is always calculated in a range of inches. Why? It’s called wind. Not the Wizard of Oz kind, but definitely the kind that can impact the measurement of snow. And in keeping with those ‘flexible’ numbers, you guys seem to take matters in your own paws. As in where you like to poop…you know in the deepest possible snow. Oh…and as far away from the sidewalk as possible. Usually just a few inches past the leash length which requires hiking out to the ‘dumping’ grounds. Snow in that mound is nearly always double in-depth and often the most desirable location for the 4-pawed tribe. Note previous tracks checking it out by the Ranch crew.
But no, that wasn’t good enough for my sweet dogs who manage to take it to a ‘nother level, aka Exhibit B. They seem to assume there are extra points for doing it in places that are next to impossibly difficult for an upright to get in and responsibly clean up after. Seriously, Elsa…do you really have to go into the area where there are the lowest possible hanging limbs or shrub rose branches to stab me in the head and/or legs? Trust me when I say there. are. no. extra. points!! Demerit points, yes.
Do I look like a 3-foot tall Hobbit who wears armadillo like armor?! Don’t answer that.
And what’s with this thing about ALWAYS having to scamper around behind my back after I’ve picked up after you,
crossing the streams a la Ghostbusters style twisting the leashes, stretching the bum shoulder and providing way too many close calls at toppling the not-as-flexible as Gumby upright as she extracts herself from the dwarf forest? Do you know how hard it is to keep the leashes untangled in gloves with hands that are freezing, trying to hold on to some semblance of order, all the while juggling a poop bag whose smell could raise the dead that needs to be off loaded in a trash bin ASAP? Seriously, you never seem to have a problem with crossing in FRONT of me inside the house. WTH?!
Your loving huMom
Do your guys go ‘contrarian’ on you when it comes to conducting their number 2 business?
Live, love, bark❣