I have to confess that Grits doesn't get walked as much as he should in winter. It's either too cold, too wet, too windy or just the right temperature for the snow to form little snowballs in between the pads on his feet. We've tried booties but, while it's fun to watch Gritsy trying to walk in them, they don't stand a chance of staying on his feet for more than a couple of minutes. Still we try to make sure he gets at least a short walk once a day, except on those ridiculously cold days we have here in Calgary.
As is often the case, Grits is happy to hang out watching you do whatever: preparing meals, cleaning up the kitchen, doing laundry, brushing your teeth, etc., but the minute you decide to sit down and relax he decides it's about time you paid some attention to him. It's hard to believe how a dog can be so good at getting this point across! It involves a series of looks, sighs, whimpers and this funny little half jump he does from a seated position. So last night, since the bike path was way too icy to navigate, I decided to take Grits for a walk around the block.
The first thing that went wrong was that when Grits was trying to find just the right spot on our icy, rutted street, some pooh may have actually touched Grits' leash before I could get it moved out of the way. Then for some reason, even though I had multiple ziploc bags in my pocket, I decided I would try to pick up the second bit of pooh with the same baggie I had used for the first bit. I was conserving bags and therefore the environment.
Since there are no places to deposit pooh on our block, I held onto the bag with a plan to dispose of it in the garbage bin in our garage. One good thing about living in a cold weather climate is that cold garbage doesn't smell. I was just about to get rid of the bag, when I noticed something brown and sticky on the outside of the bag and now on my finger.
I grabbed a rag from the laundry room and opened the door to the garage with it. First get rid of the pooh in the bag. Next I washed my hands thoroughly. Then I had to try to remember everything I had touched since we got home and cleaned it: my house key, the leash (which was already under suspicion), the door knob, the light switch, the zippers on my boots. Then I washed my hands thoroughly.
By this time Grits was chillaxing on the landing. I grabbed him, put him on the dryer for his post walk sponge bath. That's when I noticed his left back foot looked yellow instead of white.
This is just great! So off to the kitchen sink for a proper foot washing. Of course, while I'm doing this the phone rings. I know it's my husband ringing to tell me he's on his way home. I answer it and get off the phone quickly, then finish bathing and drying the dog. Then I washed my hands thoroughly.
There done... Now I can relax! But wait, now he's looking longingly at the toys in the basket in the laundry room as if to say, "Okay Mom, now that that's done, we can play!". "Fine, sure, why not" I give in and off we go as Grits tries to tear the stuffing out of his new favorite toy. Then, of course I washed my hands thoroughly.
Finally, now I get to relax...
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