Today’s Ridiculous Moment Brought to You by Tidy Dog

Have I mentioned it’s been pouring here?  Endless drenching sheets of rain.

I need to digress for a moment.  When we adopted Christmas, he was newly neutered, had never lived in a house, and he was not house trained.  He must be a Virgo.   We never had one problem.  Granted, the first week he had 300 walks a day.  But he never went in the house, ever.  He likes to be clean, and he’s proud of keeping his den clean.  If Christmas feels he is too dirty, he will go into the bathroom and sit next to the tub and stare at it until  you cave and give him a bath.  This happens at least once a week.  You could say he’s a little OCD about cleanliness.  But this is good in a dog, right? Having a hairdryer trained on him is his idea of bliss.  After he started to adjust to people (he’d never been around them) and realized this was his home too, he became even prouder and more meticulous.

Translation: He now refuses to do his business in the yard.  It’s part of his house, and he will not soil it.  Every morning, Jane pulls on sweat pants over her pjs, stuffs herself into her barn jacket and walks the dog at 7 am before she has a chance to become conscious of how she looks.  Christmas has broadened his home area to include our neighborhood, and will now hold it until we get outside the “park” as we call our housing development.  I asked Shaun to stop walking him right outside the park, or soon we’d be have to drive him to another town to poop.  We chauffeur our dog to his walks.  How ridiculous is that?

Okay.  End digression.  This morning it was pouring, I let him out in the yard (hope springs eternal), which he proudly surveyed before coming inside and looking at me pleadingly: Mom.  I gotta go.  The yard’s looking good though. I stuff myself into old sweats, barn jacket, mismatched socks, and rubber gardening shoes.  Then I put him in his car seat and drive him to a place he will poop, a real park conveniently located near a Starbucks.  Except for the jacket, by the time I get in the car, I’m soaked to the skin through sweats and pjs.  He’s also soaked.

I’m going to Starbucks: if I have to walk in a downpour I’m going to do so with a skinny vanilla latte in hand.

While I’m waiting for my ridiculously expensive, shouldn’t-take-so-long-to-pronounce, 4-drinks-ahead-of-mine coffee, I read the community bulletin board Starbucks put in each franchise, to make it feel less chain-like.

You could not, in a million years, mistake this Starbucks for one in, say, Minnesota.

uh, caution on hitting the read more button, not for children…

The flyers:

  • Sheep dog trials on Saturday. ( That would be fun.  I’d like to watch that.  Cool.)
  • Please help family whose child has cancer: no medical insurance.  There’s a fundraising auction over at the community hall.  Donations taken Friday at the fire station.
  • Get to Know Your Police!  Come chat over donuts and coffee, crayons and police-themed coloring books for the kids.
  • Chamber Music at the college on Sunday:  Free
  • The Vagina Monologues is running for the next 3 weeks, Friday and Saturday nights, with a Sunday matinee performance.  Colorful flyer: graphic drawing of a vagina, in rainbow colors, with kid-style sun ray lines around it.
  • Lost white kitty. ( Aw…oh …wait: posted over the lost kitty is a thank you note with photo.  Kitty found and returned.   How nice is that?)
  • Gay republicans are looking for more gay republicans to march in their contingent on Gay Pride Day.  Call {number}
  • Library is having a book sale

Hang on.  Did I just not react to a large, detailed red, yellow, purple, pink and orange vagina?

I need that coffee.

I contemplate the flyer while I wait, and try not to blush.  After awhile, I begin to wonder what the equivalent male flyer would look like.  I begin to wonder if there IS  a male equivalent.  Shouldn’t there be?  I mean, if this were a flyer for The Penis Monologues, I’d be upset there was no corresponding answer from the female side.

Pretty soon, I’m having this whole imaginary conversation between penises and vaginas while I’m waiting for my skinny vanilla latte.  I have to put my hands in my pockets so I don’t make them talk to each other in public (one being the penis, the other being the vagina).  It was getting rowdy in my brain.  In no time at all, I am laughing, with tears running down my cheeks, at this runaway conversation (between penises and vaginas talking about what makes them proud about themselves) that no one else can hear.   The barista looks up, probably trying to calculate which drink is mine, so he can shove it to the front of the line.

Let’s see.  If I work it out right, I can make the sheep dog trials in the morning, drop off my donations for the auction, have donuts with the police, stop by the library book sale, listen to chamber music in the afternoon, watch talking vaginas in the evening, and prank call the gay republicans (oxymoron in my book) when I get home.

This may be a very entertaining weekend…

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13 thoughts on “Today’s Ridiculous Moment Brought to You by Tidy Dog

  1. Michelle

    Oh my gosh! Where do you find a dog like that? Mine has odd rules about bathroom behavior as well (we must walk 15 laps or more across the same 40 foot stretch of grass before squatting and he can ONLY poop off the leash) but the cleanliness thing….not so much. In fact, he gets the most joy out of coming home from the park and climbing immediately onto the couch to deposit a large quantity of sand before getting dragged off to the bath for a scrub. Can I send him over for a cleanliness tutorial from Christmas?

    Reply
  2. Asparagus Stalker

    See, this is exactly what happens to me…except for the coffee. Aarene will vouch for this; I’ll run across something that plants an oddball seed, and suddenly I’m cackling like an old gobbler. Since the complex dialog is in my head, I can shake my head and say, “Sorry, inappropriate thought there.”

    Reply
  3. Halt Near X

    Gay republicans are amateurs in the conflicting politics ring.

    I was raised Catholic and in a military family, and then I went off to a liberal women’s college and an even more liberal graduate program.

    I stopped talking politics to people a long, long time ago — sometime after the fourth or fifth head exploded.

    Reply
  4. checkmark115

    that was hilarious. I myself find the whole “conversation btw penises and vaginas hilarious. Good one

    Reply
  5. JackieB

    One of my dogs is tidy like that. She was very easy to housebreak as a puppy (300 walks a day helped too). She always does her business at the edge of our yard. Several months ago I had to move in with my Dad to care for him. His yard isn’t fenced, so I had to walk her on a leash. She got to know what was “her new yard” and didn’t want to make messes there. She would usually wait until I walked her down the street and “go” at the furthest point from home. Unfortunately, I couldn’t take time away from Dad to do that very often. She got better about it eventually. But it took lots of patience, and a bit of training to get her to accept Dad’s yard as an appropriate potty spot. (Funny, the neighborhood dogs don’t have a problem with that!)

    Gay republicans – maybe throw-backs to the days when the GOP was about fiscal conservatism? Or perhaps they have a crush on Dick Cheney (ewww!)?

    Reply
  6. Cara

    Glad to hear I’m not the only one who has conversations in her head and laughs! Drives my family nuts.
    “What are you laughing at?”
    “I’m just telling my self a joke.”

    Reply
  7. theliteraryhorse Post author

    Christmas trained himself. I took pity on him and let him enjoy a tree before I put him back in the car and went into Starbucks.

    What are we going to do? Hope Christmas never discovers he lives in California. I am not going to drive my dog to Nevada to poop. ;)

    Really on the gay republicans. I believe they call themselves Log Cabin Republicans…? People are endlessly surprising.

    Reply
  8. enlightenedhorsemanship

    I cackled so hard when reading this that I started a coughing fit!

    I wondered if Christmas was going to poop while you were enjoying the artwork.

    In all my life I’ve never heard of a dog trained so well, or with such a sense of pride in his home, however extended it may be.

    What are you gonna do?

    and, gay republicans? really?

    Reply

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