From the day we got her last October, Callie has always been obsessed with finding the perfect place to poop. She will pace back and forth and back and forth until she finds a---wait, this spot isn't good enough--better keep pacing back and forth and back and forth etc. until she FINALLY finds the perfect place to go to the bathroom.
Lately, in addition to finding the perfect place to poop, her mission has also included an attempt to poop as close to the whizzing traffic on the four lane road as possible. Even when I try to pull her closer to the sidewalk, and away from SUDDEN DEATH, she works her hardest to get her butt as close to the road as she possibly can. This is annoying not only because I constantly worry about cars skidding up onto the curb and hitting her mid-poop, but also because, in order to clean up after her once she's finished pooping in the most dangerous place possible, I basically have to stick my head into oncoming traffic (the speed limit is 35 here, which apparently means PLEASE GO AT LIGHTNING SPEED DOWN THE RESIDENTIAL ROAD) to scoop up the poop with my plastic bag (and I know I should be using more eco-friendly bags to scoop the poop, but on a graduate student and Latin teacher budget, Preston and I can either afford beer or eco-friendly bags...and going without beer just isn't an option).
This morning while I was walking Callie and freaking out about getting my head lopped off while I bagged her poop, it struck me that in two months, I will be walking two big dogs (our new dog is a yellow lab and Callie's a black lab/collie/mystery mix) at the same time. That means that I will be holding onto two dogs that, combined, weigh more than I do, my keys, and their poop bags.
Maybe I should have thought harder about this new dog thing. OOPS.
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