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~Tuesday~  It's been a while since I've made a public posting, so here's a little "potpourri" one.




I'm here to tell you that the use of the word always in the message on that bag is hyperbole.

Witness this weekend, when I grabbed one such bag to use as a "mutt mitt" while walking Frances and Vincent. Within minutes, Vincent stopped to make a deposit, which I duly scooped up in said bag.

When I got halfway 'round the block, I noticed that the bag felt a little light, only to discover that the bottom had blown out and the, well you know, was gone.

Needless to say, idiot, that bag could not be reused.

I checked the side of my leg and my socks and shoes to see if any of it had left its (skid) marks on me upon its exodus. Thankfully, I saw none, nor did I see any sign of it as far back as I could see on the sidewalk.

The next day, while walking the same path, I came upon the exodused excrement—three clumps in various places on the sidewalk, easier to pick up because it was harder—which smacks of irony on a purely literal level.





In a completely unrelated incident, I checked my mail at about 10:00 tonight, and lo and behold at that hour, there was a "little old lady" nearby with her dog on a leash and one of those "mutt mitts" (described above) in her hand, one that still seemed to be intact.

People rarely introduce themselves in my neighborhood, as it's somewhat of an ephemeral place due to a fair number of the townhouse units in service as rentals for students, many of which leave in May or June. Some come back in the fall. Some are replaced after graduating with new tenants. Some move on for some other reason.

Tonight, however, this particular lady introduced herself to me, and I learned all this and more in the five minutes we stood there:

  • Her name is Gabby.

  • Her dog's name is "Addy," short for "Admiral," although it's a female.

  • Addy is a rescue dog.

  • Her son rescued her from a fire.

  • Not long after he had her, she was hit by a car, but fortunately only the tires rubbed against the side of her body.

  • Her son is in the Navy.

  • In California.

  • He was not able to keep Addy, so that's why Gabby has her now.

  • They're not sure how old she is, but they think about three.

  • Addy loves people—pointed out to me as Addy's legs were up on my thighs, she was up on her tip toes (paws), her head was stretched up toward my face trying to kiss me.

  • She boards her at one of those places like Pets R Us or Pet Smart or something like that.

  • Noted with disdain: "They consider 'walking your dog' letting it out of the cage and walking it around the perimeter of said cage a few times."

  • She belongs to the Catholic cathedral downtown.

  • It's the smallest cathedral in the world.

  • They want to expand it and are raising money toward that end.

  • They're having a "fair" downtown on September 7th and 8th.

  • She'd like me to come—"It's not a religious thing!" she added quickly, probably detecting my fabulous gay aura and the demonic smile on my face at the mere mention of the words "Catholic" and "cathedral."

  • Nothing registered in her expression at all when I replied, "I'm a lapsed Catholic, myself." She seemed to exploit the pause by using it to take a breath.

  • They'll have games to play and most importantly a raffle—a raffle to win $2,500 dollars, or an HD TV, or some other thing that I don't remember, because it's not something that I'd want. I only remember the TV, because for a second I debated as to whether to mention the fact that I hadn't had one for ten years.

  • The raffle tickets are two bucks a piece.

  • She'll come by some time when she has some with her if I want to buy some.

  • It was good to meet me.

My initial assessment of Gabby: She is aptly named.

I imagined her thinking as she walked away, "That was a long conversation. I thought he'd never stop listening."
 

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( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
e_musings
Aug. 16th, 2012 02:18 am (UTC)
Kudos picking up the poo the day after!
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )

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