DOG "BUSINESS"

It's a subject that no one wants to address. That's the subject of dog "business".

You see them every day - dog owners taking their pets for a "walk". Yes, that's technically true, but the real purpose of the walk is to get the dog to do you know.

So, armed with small plastic bags and a look of frustration on our faces, we mutt parents trudge twice a day with our beloved child substitutes waiting for the moment of truth, as it were.

My dog "Gus" is a Welsh Corgi - they look like hamsters on steroids and they're so darned cute that nearly all passers-by can't resist petting the little buggers. Corgis love it and will eagerly walk an extra hundred yards out of their normal path to get doted on by smiling strangers. You can almost hear the wheels turning in the Corgi's small mind: "Oh boy, here comes a trio of Jack The Ripper, Godzilla and Charles Manson. Let's go and say 'hi'"!

Yesterday's "business walk" with Gus was an interesting experience. It was a blustery day with wind gusts exceeding thirty miles per hour. Limbs were falling from trees, leaves were blowing and dust was in the air. As a result, Gus was distracted and a distracted dog is not a productive dog, (if you know what I mean). So we walked. And walked some more.

Just as Gus was getting to the moment of truth, a well-meaning neighbor approached with a pocket full of dog biscuits and a litany of cute epithets to describe her love of my (now distracted) dog.

The walk goes on. The long-awaited moment of truth again approaches along with the appearance of a guy on a bike. Brakes are applied, down goes the kick stand and Gus goes into another petting-induced frenzy, forgetting about the job at-hand.

I have a great idea. I'm sure that most of us have seen the capes worn by service dogs - the ones that say "I'm a service dog and I have a job to do. Please don't pet me".

I'm thinking about buying my dog his own cape: "I'm Gus and I have a job to do. Go ahead and pet me anyway - you know you want to".

Readers enjoy your day.

BICYCLING WOES

PSSSSST.....THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP.

These are the sounds that cyclists dread. They are the unmistakable sounds of a flat tire. I happened to me this morning during my daily bike ride. In examining the damage to my three-day old super-duper, herculean strength tire, I noted that the flat was caused by a nail. In looking at my surroundings I saw that the flat occurred in front of ***'s Building Supply. You know, the type of place that sells lumber, plumbing and roofing supplies. Oh, yes - and fasteners, including NAILS. (Please note that I did not specify the name of the store as they were most likely not responsible for the nail that ended up in my tire.)

I experienced this inconvenience at a spot three miles from home. Facing my alternatives there was no other choice but to hoof it home, pushing my bike along the busy Washington State Road 19. Worse than the flat tire itself is the embarrassment of pushing rather than riding the bike. One could almost hear the laughter of the unsympathetic motorists whizzing by. In short, there were hundreds of cars and trucks which sped by me, offering nary a wink, nod or wave. I would have hoped that other human beings might stop and at least offer a few words of sympathy or encouragement.

"Need a lift?"

"Can I help?"

"Cup of coffee?

"Lemon bar?"

Alas, no assistance of any type was offered. Not that it was expected, mind you.

As always, I looked upon the experience as an opportunity rather than a problem. Accordingly, I was able to peruse the various roadside articles (trash, if you will) that have been presumably discarded by passing motorists. 

It was a veritable weekend garage sale of free stuff that is available to all. Along the way I gathered the following useful items: an Allen wrench, a small piece of styrofoam, a supermarket gift card and various coins totalling 35¢. Admittedly it was hardly a treasure trove but it gave me something to do on my walk home. 

But the best and most interesting item that I found was a construction pencil from a local building supply store. Here's a picture:

The irony of this find is unmistakable.

Readers, enjoy your day.