The old lady who lives in the house on Ruth, one house in from the corner of Jack, stared out at me and her little mutt dog yapped mercilessly all the while as we passed crunching on the brittle snow. Girl just ignored them and I did too. It is becoming evident that arguing about most ever’thing has never done me no good. I’m gonna change my ways on that account and never make a fuss no more over anything if I can help it. So, we just kept up our pace and kept to ourselves despite the ruckus from that mutt banging up against the big picture window that looked out onto Ruth. That is until Girl decided to cross over and jump right up onto her ice-covered lawn, over the berm of plowed ice and dirty snow she went and before I could even call her she squatted and began to shit. A couple of big ol’ steaming bars of dark brown poop come out and I glanced up quickly and could see the two of ‘em-the old lady and the mutt- jaws dropped, watching behind the glass. There wasn’t nothin’ to do but to jump up over that high mound of snow myself. Girl finished up and made like she was a bull pawing at the ground and then she ran off leaving me there.
Luckily I carry a Wal-Mart shopping bag with me in my jacket pocket. It comes in handy for times like this when Girl has gone in an inappropriate location, or for collecting deposit bottles from outta the weeds at the edge of the lake (or secretly from the recycling collection on Thursday morning. I try to go out before light on Thursday so’s no one will be looking at me rootin’ through their bins.) It came in handy today! While that old biddy watched I put the bag over my hand like a glove and deftly picked up those turds, flipped the bad inverse and walked off swinging it just like it was the most natural thing. I never looked back to see what the old lady did but as I walked to catch up to Girl I could hear her little mutt’s yapping voice receding into the past. Like a boy scout who saved the little tyke who broke through the ice or started a fire to keep warm after his commuter plane had crashed in the wilderness of the Alaskan bush…I’d come prepared and I’d triumphed!
Well, Girl seemed to sense the success of that episode too ‘cause she took a dump on that same spot every day for a week after. Little runt ranting. Old lady fuming. Me scooping up the evidence. Truthfully, it became a pain in the ass for me but I didn’t say a word to Girl. Like I said I am not gonna be arguing anymore especially for little stuff like something as natural as a dog crapping. So far the old lady had stayed indoors and I didn’t know what I would do if she ever came out and bitched but I was practicing my dog poop Zen in such an event. I would keep cool.
Girl got tired, I suppose, of the game and stopped going there after a week and I was glad. The dog in the bubble was there every morning anyway yapping at us and banging against the glass picture window as we walked past his house. Once in a while the Lady was there watching us too. Then one day (it was in the afternoon-not our regular walk but one of our random strolls we take when I get bored of my chores at home and cant stand the thought of the four walls anymore even though the ice was still horrible and it was very, very cold outside) she was out on Ruth just up the way from her home. She had her little runt dog on the leash and he was trying to pull her down the street. When Girl saw them she took off like a shot and while she will almost always come to me when I call her she ignored me completely then. The little dog on the leash pulled right and left and yapped ungodly when he saw Girl coming. He was only about thirteen pounds but the Lady still seemed to be struggling to keep him under control. When Girl reached them the little dog nipped at her and I was impressed at how he tried to protect his master. Girl wagged her tail and thought it was a shit-load of fun to dodge the little dog’s furious defense. I walked slowly up to the scene and called Girl over-and she came. I petted her while the old lady began to lecture me about keeping my dog on a leash. Said ‘some day a big dog would get her’. I failed to see how being on a leash would help in that situation but I kept my mouth shut. I just smiled and wished her a good day and Girl and I just sauntered away. Dog poop Zen.
Time has gone by and Girl and I are fixtures walking in the neighborhood now. Cars see us and mostly slow down and watch as Girl comes over to me and waits for them to pass safely. I clean up the poop and I think people appreciate the effort. Occasionally I will pick up garbage can that the garbage men have left in the road after the pick up and put it carefully in the my neighbor’s drive. I like to pick up paper and trash and put it into someone’s can so it’s not littering up the road. And all the kids in the neighborhood know Girl and call to her and play with her while they wait for the school bus. We have pleasant walks. I have stopped ignoring the old lady too. I wave to her when we pass if she happens to be in the window watching. Up until yesterday she has never waved back but then something interesting happened.
Yesterday she was there as Girl and I walked past her house. I stopped and waved at her but noticed there was no sign of the little dog and something else was different too. Next to her, behind the glass, was a little boy. The bright reflections on the glass made it difficult to see inside but it was plain that there were two people in there-her and the little boy-both waving back at me and Girl. I called Girl over and she came and jumped the icy berm onto the crusty lawn. The old lady held the boy up to see and she pointed to the dog on her lawn and they were both laughing and the muffled sound reached me and Girl out there. I called girl off the lawn and she jumped the berm onto the black asphalt street. The little boy pointed and clutched at the old lady. I waved once more and Girl and I resume up our walk back home. All the way I ruminated on the old lady and what had happened to her little dog. And who was the boy? Will answers come to he who waits? We’ll have to see if Dog Poop Zen works that way.
