Bending a Ritual

Each morning, as I complete the aligning exercise recommended by my doctor, one puppy is waiting for me to appear. He is always nose to the crack between bedroom door and carpet, poised to roll over for a belly rub. Usually, he leads me to his sister’s kennel, so I can take her out first then, come back for him. This morning, I took her out and then to the tennis courts for a brisk run before returning for him. There was ice on the court in patches and, while her first encounter with same, she didn’t break stride but got on with the business of sniffing everything until she found a pine cone for our game of fetch.

When we returned, he was ready to great the morning air and I decided against the humiliation of making him wear her outgrown vest, though the pink Chanel-knock-off is quite fetching against his black coat. We dropped the poop sacks from last night in the receptacle and he got down to business. I think the crunchy grass was a new sensation for us both. I imagine the sprinklers came on last night before the temperature fell and so everything was coated in a honey-colored light glinting off the ice.

This is a great thing for harvesting purposes. The excrement of other dogs was encased as it were in ice. This made for easy, odor-less retrieval and so I set to work. I must’ve gathered ten poop sacks full. It was far from grim satisfaction that I got from this community service. A neighbor approached cautiously from the side of a parked car. Our dogs had not yet gotten one another’s scent. I reassured her that we’d be clearing out as soon as I’d tied a knot in and deposited the last sack in the receptacle. As we made our way home I wondered if there’s money in poop – if someone, somewhere, couldn’t benefit, while I profit, from collection and redirection of same. If you know, tell me. Got poop. Will travel.

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