Here’s the thing guys – my dog is awesome. Even people who don’t like dog like my dog. All he ever wants is attention and someone to pet and love him, but if you don’t oblige, he’ll give up after five minutes and go lay down. Right now, while I’m typing this, he’s laying on the floor napping and not complaining that I’m listening to Britney Spears in 2013. Sure, he doesn’t get personal space too well, and he begs, but he doesn’t jump unless you’re roughhousing with him and he doesn’t bark. Which makes the fact that he acts like a total dick when I walk him all the funnier.
When we first start out it’s clear that taking his piss and dump is the most important thing he’s doing for the day, and he’s going to treat it as such. When I first get home, he’s jumping and whining and barking and freaking out in anticipation of this walk, to the point that I can’t even make it up the stairs – I just do an item dump inside the door and call him out to me to start the festivities. Then the first three minutes or so of our walk are a straight power walk while he gets us to one of his two preferred pee zones – he cannot, of course, just pee outside our front door. He needs to get us a certain distance away from the apartment before he slows down and starts snuffling the ground seriously searching for the best place to evacuate his piss. Two false alarms – which is where he crouches as though he is going to pee but then changes his mind and wanders off to a new location – and a thirty second pee later (he’s a big guy, what do you expect?) that’s taken care of and the rest of our walk can be completed at a leisurely pace.
Until it’s time to take a shit. I know this is coming, and have time to leisurely untie and open the poop-picking-up bag, because AT LEAST THREE TIMES before he makes his final decision, he will stiff-leggedly drop it like it’s hot and then awkwardly try to walk away like nothing happened when his doggy senses tell him this isn’t optimal pooping location. When he finally does decide he’s chosen an acceptable location, he will always wait till I have bent down to pick up said poop before kicking up the dirt or grass to try to cover it up, effectively covering ME with said dirt and grass. After which he decides that he has to sniff EVERY BLADE OF GRASS IN THE IMMEDIATE AREA rather than letting me go throw out the bag of poop I am now holding. Or, you know, batting the yorkie who’s as big as his head across the back while I’m holding the bag of poop.
Clear and obvious payback for making him hang out all day while I work to pay the bills, I know.