My blog is not really a pet column, but as time goes by, it has turned into a kind of tried-and-true landing strip for dog lovers in search of pawesome stories.
Quite true that if you browse through my adventures, you'll come across a lot of love posts to everydoggy.
Lovey-dovey stuff, but " dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent " (Milan Kundera - The Unbearable Lightness of Being ).
Don't get me wrong, anyway. I don't pooh-pooh non-dog lovers, and today I'll tackle a hot-button issue : people who don't pick up after their dog.
It's a real scourge, and in some cities it's just like playing hopscotch, because everywhere you walk, you have to watch your step!
Even though social pressure is making things better, there are still too many " drop-it-and-leave-it " zones, and too many disrespectful dog owners who leave " the scenes of crime " pretending not to be involved!
OK! But even if having a rant from time to time is good for health, this blog is not a simmering pot of anger waiting to bubble over, so let's forget about those couldn't-care-less Fido owners, and let me tell you something funny about my job as my dog's personal poo slave.
Some years ago I shared my life with Charlie, the best dog I've ever had.
By the way, please not a word to Canaille, he would be extremely offended. No problem for Ulysse : he is wiser, and doesn't have a bone of jealousy in his body. Thanks in advance.
So, as I was saying, Charlie was a good boy, well-mannered and always eager to please.
Yet, when it came to doing his business, things were rather different.
Every evening before going to bed, I used to take him for a walk, and every evening the same old story.
There was a smart restaurant with a covered terrace down our block, and Charlie seemed to take a special delight in doing his business smack-bang in front of it.
No matter how long we walked,that mischievous guy would block his bowels till he was " in the limelight " of that restaurant!
Was he expecting applause from the customers inside, or, even worse, an encore??
I really don't know. The only thing I know was that every evening I tried to improve my skill and style to pick up Charlie's masterpiece, and to bend like a maestro thanking his audience.Then, I tied the poo bag and, red with shame, I dragged " my artist " into the lobby of our building.
All throughout his life, Charlie played his damned performance every night, except fifteen days off. You know why?
The restaurant was under works!!!
That's when it came to my mind that my naughty dog had been playing his embarrassing trick on purpose.
But why?
Was it because of the " dogs not admitted " sign on the door of the restaurant? Who knows?
Maybe my sweetheart could read, but he was so humble that he never told me!
Come on, I'm kidding, I'm a dogaholic, but I am sober from time to time!
Have a pawesome day!
Some years ago I shared my life with Charlie, the best dog I've ever had.
By the way, please not a word to Canaille, he would be extremely offended. No problem for Ulysse : he is wiser, and doesn't have a bone of jealousy in his body. Thanks in advance.
So, as I was saying, Charlie was a good boy, well-mannered and always eager to please.
Yet, when it came to doing his business, things were rather different.
Every evening before going to bed, I used to take him for a walk, and every evening the same old story.
There was a smart restaurant with a covered terrace down our block, and Charlie seemed to take a special delight in doing his business smack-bang in front of it.
No matter how long we walked,that mischievous guy would block his bowels till he was " in the limelight " of that restaurant!
Was he expecting applause from the customers inside, or, even worse, an encore??
I really don't know. The only thing I know was that every evening I tried to improve my skill and style to pick up Charlie's masterpiece, and to bend like a maestro thanking his audience.Then, I tied the poo bag and, red with shame, I dragged " my artist " into the lobby of our building.
All throughout his life, Charlie played his damned performance every night, except fifteen days off. You know why?
The restaurant was under works!!!
That's when it came to my mind that my naughty dog had been playing his embarrassing trick on purpose.
But why?
Was it because of the " dogs not admitted " sign on the door of the restaurant? Who knows?
Maybe my sweetheart could read, but he was so humble that he never told me!
Come on, I'm kidding, I'm a dogaholic, but I am sober from time to time!
Have a pawesome day!
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