There’s an understanding between myself and The Pooch: I walk her and she might just choose to take a nap when we get home, rather than try to sit on my lap while I’m working. Other times she’ll forego on the nap, run to fetch her ball and proceed to throw it at me, convinced that this will make the thought of playing with it completely irresistible. After all, it usually works when I do it to her.
We were halfway through our Sunday walk, when all of a sudden, an elderly woman comes running towards us. Her arms were waving in the air, determined to get my attention.
“You know, it’s perfectly alright for you to walk your dog,” she says when she catches up to us. “But it’s very, very important that you pick up its poop after it.”
I thought that she could not have noticed the big, black, shit-stuffed doggie bag in my hand, nor the seven empty bags sticking out of my pocket, so I held the warm, swelling back up in the air and informed her, in a slightly cool tone of voice, that I always picked up after Pooch.
I assumed that she would back the hell off. No such luck.
In stead she goes on and on about how important it is to pick up those previously mentioned poops because people stepped in them, and so on and so forth. There was a small river running along the road where we stood. I studied the river, and then I looked at the lady while I contemplated whether or not I had the energy to throw her in. Probably not. Sick of listening to the sad tale of innocent shoes being thrust into piles of dung left behind by other dogs and their irresponsible owners, I pulled a fistful of empty bags out of my pocket and held them in front of the meddlesome woman’s face.
It had a rather peculiar effect. Granted, she turned around and started back towards her house, but she kept on talking about poops and shoes and whatnot, while looking back at me. Perhaps she’d been inhaling them, or something.
I looked at Pooch. Pooch was looking at her ass, as if it was a foreign object that she’d only just discovered.
Next time I’ll throw that woman in the river. Definitely.
10 comments:
Big Hellhole seems like it's pretty damn near as wierd as Little Hellhole was.
Oh, and she probably chose to annoy you because you looked like you wouldn't throw her into the river.
I think that lady just has a poop fetish. You know she collects the little turds, puts them on her bed, and just rolls around in them. It's her way, don't judge too harshly.
Weird. Weird that so much energy is focused on other people's dog poo.
She must be anally fixated on poop. Sorry couldn't help the pun.
I cannot believe you put up with that poop!! And as I have remarked before, stuffed animals pose NONE of these problems, when I drag my stuffed animals around the neighborhood, no-one approaches me!! Also I never have to pick up any poops, sometimes I have to get them untangled from bushes when they get snagged!!
*sniggers*
I use those latex gloves. Pick up poo, (ewwwww) take off from the wrist, twist and tie wrist area like a balloon. Only works with little dogs, though. Don't try it with a bull mastif.
I'm still trying to figure out who's ass the pooch was looking at. The poop lady's or her own. If it was the poop lady's ass. Maybe it was a foreign object. Or maybe there was poop there. You never know with old ladies.
She thought you were offering her brownies when you kept holding out the baggies of brown stuff.
And free brownies don't solve that pesky poop problem.
Jazz - there are always plenty of weird people wherever I go...
Ticknart - she did smell a bit odd...
Tai - let's hope she never takes a personal interest in me or the pooch.
Big brother - pun away, my friend. Pun away.
Tom - she'd probably have something to say about that too.
Dory - pooch makes bigguns
Tom - pooch is always fascinated by her own ass. Just riveted, she is.
Jocelyn - maybe I'll put some in her mailbox and see if she eats them
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