Monica Bielanko
A chronicle since 2005 of my marriage & move to Brooklyn in my twenties; becoming a mother in my thirties; moving to Pennsylvania and learning to amicably coparent after divorce in my forties while living 3 doors down from my ex-husband in a small country town.
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Wednesday
Nov232005

The Old Poop & Run

Braved bitter cold temps this morning to walk Max to the park. Arming myself for the walk, I discovered a lone doggie bag left in the cupboard under the sink. How could this be? When did this happen? The Surge is always stuffing grocery bags, clothes shopping bags, dollar store sacks and anything else that might pick up poop there. I once found a clear produce baggie jammed under there.
"Are you crazy? Am not picking up shit with this. Can feel everything, see everything!" After Max's bout with worms (you'll never view your dog's ass in the same way after you've witnessed a white worm wiggle out) I have an enormous aversion to seeing the poop.

The lack of poop bags must be because The Surge has been on tour for what feels like the past decade and I've not been to the grocery store since he left (thank you Thai Tai). Luckily I found an old bag floating in the giant pockets of my shapeless winter coat.
"You can only poop once Max. That's it. I've just got the one bag here."

Once in the park Max eliminated his overnight storage. This made for an extremely anxious walk as I was terrified he might go again. There's nothing worse than your dog unleashing his bowels in public when you've run out of doggie bags. I've done the fake stoop & scoop which involves covering the bulk of the poop with your body and pretending to pick it up until the coast is clear. Then you bolt.

Today, I thought we were in the clear. The walk was over, we were headed home. We're golden, I thought. And then it happened. Max began the poop crawl which involves nosing the sidewalk for just the right spot, tucking his adorable backside in and going for broke as he sways on his haunches. Noooo! Oh lord. I tried to hustle him along.
"Treats!" I shrieked. "Let's go home and get treats!" He couldn't be arsed with treats. Apparently he needed to make more room for the offering. There he was in full poop crouch. Frantically I peeped to the right and left. Behind me on the sidewalk an old man approached with his laundry sack.
"Hurry Max! I told you not to poop twice!"
"Hey, sorry. You're the one that didn't take me out last night."
"But it was cold. And raining!"
"Do you mind? I'm busy here?" He twitched an ear, shrugged his glossy black shoulders and continued his dirty work. As soon as he finished we escaped the scene of the crime, bolting down the sidewalk like bank robbers making their getaway. I didn't look back.

I hope that old man was blind enough he didn't witness my shameful deed, but not so blind he missed the steaming little package awaiting him on the sidewalk.

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Reader Comments (4)

You know, that happened to me once when I was a kid. I was walking our little schnoodle, and he did the same thing in the driveway we were passing on the way home. I dragged him along as he pooped, so it was like a little poop trail. And the old man who happened to be in the adjoining garden called after me, "Little girl! You're dropping your pinecones!!"
November 23, 2005 | Unregistered Commenterdasi
Very nice. You write well. I wish you would write about politics.

J
November 24, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterJennifer
Been there, done that. I have two small dogs, one who only likes to poop on sidewalks- she seems not to like the tickle of grass on her nether-regions. And, there have been times when I have already used all the bags I carry. Errant poop on grass is bad enough. On busy sidewalk, oh the guilt!

I wish you will continue to write about anything and everything BUT politics!
November 24, 2005 | Unregistered Commenterplumleigh
feel real bad for you city dwellers! As you know monica, my spliffer just does a little whiney whistle through his nose routine, I open the front door, and off he trapes to the orchard across the street where some of the best peaches in the world are grown, thanks to my boys fertilizer! Then he merrily gives a tap tap on the door when his merriment is complete. No poop bags for me or the shame. Am always rewarded each harvest time with a big box of peaches left on my doorstep in gratitude,I'm sure for our free fertilizer.
November 25, 2005 | Unregistered Commentermama

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