Foiled Again

We took Wonderbutt for a walk today against my better judgement.  If you’ve been keeping up with Wonderful World of Wonderbutt, you know that he likes to Poop as He Walks.  And I don’t like to clean it up.  And I keep forgetting to bring the necessary accessories for proper removal and disposal.

Today, however, I had a plan of attack.  I immediately began to feed Wonderbutt dog biscuits when we got home from work and school to start getting the whole digestive/excretory system going.  Then I coaxed him outside to his pen, and tried to convince him that it was in everyone’s best interest for him to do his business now.

I tried.

Then Dimples tried.  “I’ll do it,” she stated with exasperation after I failed.  She seems to think that she has a magic technique for extracting poop from the dog.  I have yet to see evidence of this.  She gave up after five minutes.

I was determined, however, to not get thrown in the slammer for allowing my dog to poop on the road.  Well, technically, that is not what would get me put away.  It would be the matter of me running away from the poop which might lead to my criminal record.

About 20 minutes after the Poop Standoff had begun, it was over.  Wonderbutt glared at me, walked through the dog door to do his business, then burst back into the house at 100 mph, ready to rock and roll.

I gave Dimples the all clear and we gathered up all of our supplies.  In order to ward off the Murphy’s Law Enforcement Team, I grabbed a few plastic bags, reasoning that it is only when I am completely unprepared that the worst usually happens.

I felt pretty confident that I had this whole thing figured out.

It was about 76 degrees today, and the dogs were full of vim and vigor.  It’s hard to tell Mrs. P.I.B. is 10 years old, almost 11, when she is prancing around the block, the sun glistening on her golden hair and white muzzle.

The four of us proudly rounded the corner at a leisurely pace, and headed down the Hill of Doom, which is usually where Wonderbutt decides to Poop as He Walks.  I wasn’t nervous, though.  All precautions had been taken.

We passed the point where we usually end up wheeling around and racing back to the house in the hope of making it to our yard before – well, you know.

I smiled.  You are so smart, Mrs. Cap’n Firepants, I congratulated myself.

And Wonderbutt threw up chunks all over the road.

Dimples looked at me.

I looked at the plastic bags in my hands.  Suddenly cleaning up poop didn’t seem so bad.

“Run?” Dimples asked.

I nodded.

I would have to check the ordinance in question, but, technically, I don’t think I broke the law this time.

This sign clearly absolves me from worrying about emissions from the front end of the dog.

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/antphotos/623559183/”>ant.photos</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

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