With the spud off spending the school year at her dad’s house, I need something new to write about when I’m not whining about school, money and the vagaries and miseries of life in general.
I think I’ve figured out what that will be: Rupert.
We have been walking every morning for the last week or so. It’s not a long walk, we just go down and around three blocks. It’s a nice route, very little traffic, and it is a relaxing and invigorating little jaunt. It is strange, however, that on every walk we’ve had Rupert always does No. 2 (I always remember now to check the status of my poop bags) on the same nicely manicured lawn. Every time. Even the one time I got walk crazy and I took him for a second evening walk. Even the one day the dog that lives in the house was out on a lead and barked at him, loudly and incessantly from only a few feet away, the whole time he made not one pile, but lived up to his nick-name, Rupert Two-Poops.
So how do I account for this? Coincidence? Yeah probably. Or I can imagine that Rupert is a very civilized dog; he likes a neat, tidy bathroom. But probably it’s some dog code to the dog that lives there, something like, “Gravy at my den, 5pm every night. Watch out, sometimes there’s a stray piece of veg hiding in the gravy.”
Janie's Place 