Waking up to Norah Jones and the smell of shit is like biting into a chocolate and finding it’s a turkish delight. From then on, things can only get better.
I’ve been thinking about how I pick up the dogs’ poo. I always want to do it deftly, so as to appear professional and so that I’m not hanging around that smell. I also don’t wish to appear as if I am enjoying myself. However, perform the pick up too fast and you run the risk of missing some, or worse still, getting some on your fingers. As well this, we use cheap nappy sacks, so I have to be careful not to pick up a twig in addition to the poo and rip the bag – it can be a long way to the next bin. There is an art to poo picking. One time, dog 1 had eaten a nappy sack and I found myself in the strange situation of picking up a poo that came out almost pre-packaged.
Whenever the dogs lick me, I find myself thinking about the last thing they licked: the other dog’s nob or fox crap. I am surprised that we don’t all develop some awful skin disease, but somehow we don’t. Why do we let them lick us when we have all the information about where they have been at our fingertips. No human would get away with this sort of behaviour: Husband, “I’ve just licked a urinal. Come on baby, kiss me!” “Sorry, darling, I’d rather kiss the dog, who has just licked the other dog’s balls.”
Dog 2 doesn’t cock his leg yet. We are all waiting with bated breath. I’m hoping he’s not retarded, as dog 1 was cocking like a trooper by the same age. In fact, dog 1 seems to have unlimited supplies of wee, kept in reserve for all eventualities – all of which look meaningless to me: another bush, a discarded trainer, every available goal post. I’m glad human males are not like male dogs, I commented to partner on our dog walk this morning. It would take us forever to get anywhere if you had to piss everywhere. With that, dog 1 cocked his leg and pissed on dog 2’s head, and I might get very wet, I added.