Pet Central

This past weekend, Doobie and I had offered to dog-sit for Sarah while she did the Avon Breast Cancer walk around New York. So while Sarah trudged and furrowed through over thirty miles of unchartered urban territory, Doobie and I volunteered to take the dog down to Central Park and laze around in the sun.

Sounded like the pleasant end of the deal. Especially since Bella really is one of the most affectionate and well-behaved dogs I've ever chanced to encounter. (Other than the fact that she doesn't realise, as she makes herself entirely at home in my lap, that she's rather the same size as me. But it's only fair to overlook the lack of spatial conception in animals, I suppose.)

And all was going so well, as we trundled through the sunshine-dappled path together, Doobie and me catching up on on the past week, and Bella sniffing the daisies or whatever had her pre-occupied.

And then the inevitable happened. The moment I'd been dreading all along. She decided to take a dump. And at once, she was transformed in my mind from a sweet angel to a depiction or horror.

And OMG OMG but she pooped some serious monster poop!!! I still find it somewhat disconcerting to conceive of a middle-sized dog doing an elephant poop.

I turned to Doobie in horror. "Erm, your turn," I said weakly, "I'll do the next one". Doobie'd never cleaned dog poop before and I thought it only fair that she learn one of life's hardest lessons.

We had wanted to get a dog ourselves, once we moved into the new apartment. Oh boy, that aint happenin' now.

Sweet Bella

Bella the Poop Monster