as the pooch poops

August 2, 2010

It’s too hot to . . . poop?  There was a time, a happy time, in a not so distant puppy’s past; once upon a time he took great pride in a finely-tuned pooping routine.  He would turn round once, twice, sometimes thrice.  He would paw a bit, sniff out a patch of earth.  Paw a bit more.  Turn round a bit more.  Then, nose held high, he would deftly squat and do his doggie doo.  And I?  I would whip out my little blue baggie and whisk that doo away.

But that was then.  This is [heat wave ravished] now.  These days, when I take him out for his morning, noonday, or evening stroll, he listlessly lags behind.  And when nature calls, he has no energy for even a smidgen of canine pride.  No–now he simply pauses in mid step and lets it fall right there where we stand.  The poor pooch, defeated by the elements, has lost his pride.  My weather-whipped pet, have you no shame?

Ah well.  This [heat] too shall pass . . .

P.S.  I would have posted a visual aid but, seeing as how the poor lad is already so humbled, it did not seem right to add visual insult to injury.

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