I took Wensleydale (my Yorkshire terrier) out for a walk just now. I was just home from work and he was just up from a long day of napping. We got to my next door neighbor’s house and he squatted to drop a turd. “This will be a short walk,” I thought as I spooled a sack off of the roll of blue poop bags I keep in my coat pocket at all times.
Just then, Wensley barked and before I could turn he had slipped out of his harness (a very secure garment that fastens with wide strips of Velcro over both his chest and stomach, but when there is a will, dot dot dot) and he was running into the street.
Luckily, I live in a pretty lazy neighborhood. But this is the time of day when everyone is coming home from work. It is also the time of day where we lose the light very quickly. I was already straining to see where the turd was located when all of this happened.
Wensley had taken off after a college student who was on a bicycle, taking his poodle mix for a run. The student stopped the bicycle to keep from hitting Wensley, who stopped to sniff poodle. I jogged over. “This was a short lived escape,” I thought. Why do I bother with internal dialogue? I’m always wrong. I should constantly be thinking the phrase, “Let’s see what happens next.” And nothing else.
The student started riding again and Wensley took off across the street where a woman and her elementary school aged daughter were walking up the sidewalk. He sniffed at them but before they could catch him he took off after the bicycle again. After two and a half more zig zags back and forth across the street – me just too far behind the dog to catch him and trailing strip of blue bags behind me like a wind sock – Wensley finally ran to the little girl and she caught him.
“Thank you, thank you thank you…” I was saying to her and her mother both as I scooped the dog up in my arms.
Her mother gave the little girl a nudge in the armpit.
“Would you like to buy some Girl Scout Cookies?” the little girl asked.
“I’ll take four boxes,” I said, without a fraction of a pause.
Heed my story, little girls of the world! Never has a better sale been sold. If she had a wagon of boxes instead of a sign up sheet I would have bought them all.
In truth, I am feeling a little cheap for only buying four, but it is January and I’m still committed to better fitting pants.
In case you are wondering, I went back and found the turd. And Wensley is home and safe. I’m just not speaking to him at the moment.