Friday, December 9, 2005
Friday Cat Blogging, Sans Cat.
Like a Casual Friday. But today I'm raw. I'm flying without a net or a cat. No editing my thoughts, they're dangerously flapping from my keyboard before I have the time to reel them back in and clean them up. Just speaking my mind today about dog shit. Yes, the shit of dogs is the topic of the day.
Back at my house in North Carolina, dogs roam the neighborhood and spread their respective fertilizer on everyone's lawn and it evens out nicely. Nobody complains that they're getting a disproportionate share of dogshit. That was the unspoken rule when we moved there, so we gladly comply.
In Tennesse, my old childhood neighborhood ain't what it used to be. Everyone's all grown up and gone that I used to play with. We all played down by the golf course, skateboarded on the hills and rode horses in a nearby pasture. Many of the neighbors have passed on, leaving behind the widows and widowers where baseball fields and neighborhood plays and lemonade stands once ruled.
This morning, one old fart almost broke his neck getting out the door to ask me if I was "going to take care of that mess?" before my dog Buddy's mess had actually hit the frozen blades of grass below. Fuck, man. I had the fucking plastic bag in my hand! But I usually wait until my dog is actually finished before I pick up 'that mess'. And this wasn't even in his yard.
I really hope I'm more mellow than that when I get older. I'd like to think that I would greet the dog walker with a "Good Morning! Nice dog", and wait to see if the dog mess was picked up. If not, I'd politely explain the neighborhood policy.
Like a Casual Friday. But today I'm raw. I'm flying without a net or a cat. No editing my thoughts, they're dangerously flapping from my keyboard before I have the time to reel them back in and clean them up. Just speaking my mind today about dog shit. Yes, the shit of dogs is the topic of the day.
Back at my house in North Carolina, dogs roam the neighborhood and spread their respective fertilizer on everyone's lawn and it evens out nicely. Nobody complains that they're getting a disproportionate share of dogshit. That was the unspoken rule when we moved there, so we gladly comply.
In Tennesse, my old childhood neighborhood ain't what it used to be. Everyone's all grown up and gone that I used to play with. We all played down by the golf course, skateboarded on the hills and rode horses in a nearby pasture. Many of the neighbors have passed on, leaving behind the widows and widowers where baseball fields and neighborhood plays and lemonade stands once ruled.
This morning, one old fart almost broke his neck getting out the door to ask me if I was "going to take care of that mess?" before my dog Buddy's mess had actually hit the frozen blades of grass below. Fuck, man. I had the fucking plastic bag in my hand! But I usually wait until my dog is actually finished before I pick up 'that mess'. And this wasn't even in his yard.
I really hope I'm more mellow than that when I get older. I'd like to think that I would greet the dog walker with a "Good Morning! Nice dog", and wait to see if the dog mess was picked up. If not, I'd politely explain the neighborhood policy.
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