Dog Days of December


The morning started like any other. I woke up at 5:45 and desperately had to go to the bathroom, but I knew that I couldn’t. After all, that would wake up Robbie and end my half hour of continued sleep. Much better to lay in bed with a full bladder than deal with a crying baby…

Everything continued as normal: put hair in rollers, slip on fuzzy flip flop slippers, wear fleece UK robe, moisturize, let the dog out. It was the last one that got me. When I went back downstairs to let Barkley in, I noticed that the trash hadn’t been put out front. Being the good neighbor that I am (and the fact that most of the trash was ours), I decided to take it outside the fence. I planned to take it to the curb when I went to leave. But, since I was already there and already had my hands on the trash cans, why not just take them out now? Save myself time later. Right?

I got the first can to the curb and came back to get the second one. I praised Barkley for being such a good dog and staying put. Then I took the second can out. When I looked up, I saw that Barkley had joined me. Suddenly, a sinking feeling took over. And Barkley started walking down the street. Quickly.

I did the only thing I could think of. I followed him, maintaining a calm facade. And, just to fulfill your mental image: I was wearing striped pajama pants, a t-shirt, my pink, fleece UK robe, and blue fuzzy flip flop slippers. Oh, and my hair was in rollers. I was a vision…

Barkley continued walking down the street, undaunted for my calls and attempts at bribery (he was not interested in the recyclables placed intermittently down the street). He reached the corner and turned. At this point, a runner dashed past and laughed at my predicament. Barkley continued down the road at a good clip. When he reached the corner, he stopped and looked at me. I crouched down and, sounding as pathetic as possible, called my dog, who came running and nearly knocked me over with all his enthusiasm.

In a moment of brilliance, I tied the belt of my robe to his collar and walked home as quickly as my frozen little feet could carry me. And learned to never take the trash out on a Thursday morning. Surely Robbie will be old enough to take the trash out on his own soon. Or Justin will remember that the trash comes on Thursday mornings and volunteer to take it out Wednesday night. Or I’ll just take it out when Barkley isn’t in the yard. Yeah, that’s probably it.


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