Wednesday, March 28, 2007


Today started like any other. I woke up with a burst of excitement, brushed my teeth with Crest Extra Whitening, and imagined my face on the Wheaties box as I stared longingly over breakfast. (I know the coveted spot is reserved mostly for sports heroes -- and me being afraid of balls and competition doesn't help my chances. Still, I dream of the day, "Worlds Best Dog Walker" will make the cover.)

The weather was abnormally beautiful and I actually left the house sans long underwear for the first time in six months. Things were on the up and up, and I wasn't the only one who noticed.

Everyone was in a good mood, and the neighborhood felt like a Disney musical: Sunshine was pouring through the gorgeous blue sky, and the pigeons seemed to be freshly cleaned and flying about. I half-expected the squirrels to start singing and holding hands, and the delivery men to dance around lamp posts, tipping their caps.

Even the dogs seemed to be in good spirits as we skipped and sashayed down the block. It was a perfect day and nothing could go wrong... until Fizzy ate dogdoo.

I didn't notice at first, as I was kindly giving two elderly vacationers directions to a local eatery. But I could tell something was up as my shoulder was still tucked neatly in its socket. For a twenty-five pound dog, Fizzy has mastered the "tug-yank-and-drag" like a champ. Yet today, he was oddly docile.

Feeling uneasy, I slowly dropped my gaze to find Fizzy knee-deep in the largest deposit of dog poop I had ever seen. I stood in shocked silence, not sure what to do. I'd heard of such horror stories, but shrugged it off as an urban myth. And now, there I was staring it in the face.

On the one hand, it was the most repulsive display of consumption in recent memory. At the same time, I realized that I could enter Fizzy into any one of the reality-based competition shows, and he would have a fighting chance.

His eye caught mine just as the tourists were backing away slowly in fearful repulse. I have to admit, I was a little scared too. Fizzy's big, sweet grin was just barely peeking out behind the thick, chocolate layer covering his entire head.

It was both disgusting and heartbreaking. Here I am praising my amazing dog walking abilities, when I cant even keep my clients from eating crap... that cant be a good sign.

Feeling defeated, I watched the Wheaties box flash before my eyes as I took Fizzy home and washed his mouth out with soap.


nRT said...

Holy Shit....I do not understand why some dogs do that. I use to love all breeds of dogs until my friends cocker spaniel stayed with us for a week and I caught her eating her own poop. I was sick over it.
When my friend called, she admitted that her dog has done that since she was a pup. My memory flashed back to the many time the dog "kissed my face". Now I am a very careful and do not let any animal mouth near my face.
Its a scary world were living in, good luck...another story for your book.

Marissa said...

Oh no!! Who do I feel worse or Fizzy? I'm thinking BOTH! Ugh, that's so gross!! I'm gonna go with Nancy need to write a book...tales of an urban dog walker.

Erica said...

That is so ughghh! I would have freaked out so much, it's so horrible. You now really deserve your photo on the Wheaties box!

Anne said...

ewww, gross. my grandma's dog still eats its own poop - why do they do that?!?!!?