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Lockdown 6 – The Dog

The dog is fed up. Amazingly, everyone in the house wants to walk her, because if you’re walking the dog you don’t feel as if you’ll be beaten with truncheons. It’s a legitimate outdoor activity. 

But our dog hates walking locally. This is her when she realizes we have walked passed the car and we are just going around the block again.

There’s no new places to wee, all the local lamposts are already saturated and there’s no fresh bums to smell. It’s an outrage.

There are a few rules we must comply with to keep the dog happy. She is okay to wee in our garden if absolutely necessary, but pooing in it is beneath her. A poo has to be a big event, almost a theatrical production and must take place when I’m crossing a busy road.

She’s only small but she can be very strong and determined when she gets into her poo position. A few weeks ago, before lockdown, I had 7 cars and an ambulance waiting while crossing outside B&Ms. A couple of things to note during this event:

  1. The poo bags had slipped through a hole in my jacket pocket into the lining. 
  2. When I found them I couldn’t get them apart quickly.
  3. It wasn’t a clean exit. A stinky lump had got stuck in the dog’s hair on the way out.
  4. She started dancing bow-legged in circles in the middle of the road to get rid of it.
  5. Before I knew it she was smearing her bum along the centre line.
  6. Driver number 7 stared pipping his horn.

When it was over, the dog took a bow, blew everyone a kiss and we carried on.

Now, for the last 6 days, I don’t care. The roads are mostly clear, so I can relax and enjoy the road crossing experience, often zigzag between pavements as many times as I like. The dog is looking for an audience but there’s no one to be seen. 

So she’s even more depressed now. She’s in the Gary Barlow just after Take That phase, fat, bitter and longing for the good times. Those walks in The Lakes are a distant memory, the wind flapping in her lugs, the tasty sheep plop, the adoration of the B&M traffic, all gone.

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