we went for our walk as we are wont to do. it was the morning but it was really the afternoon. the cafe by the park fills both the dogs needs and my own. I wanted an egg sandwich that morning, that was all I wanted, no more and no less . .
potato took in the day in good form, proddled along without a coat or a worry, she took first to a lamppost and then to some invisible scent which coated a spot on the sidewalk (??) and then the patch of grass by the big catholic church a few blocks away . .
we approached the condomium which was still under construction . . now it is complete though yet empty . . in the dirt patch on the curb there was a man got up as a contractor (probably a contractor) . . he was outside the place raking and then started pulling up weeds . . bent over with his eyes on the ground potato rolled up on im with her tongue hanging out and a stupid grin on
ga aaah, he manages
yes, she gave him quite a start
oh gosh, says dino, my apologies
not at all, says he, not at all
we went on our way and left him be, pulling up his weeds
heh heh, goes potato, gotim good yyop
she sure did, but that guy was alright.
on the next block potato evacuated. she dropped two fine black foecal logs and two smaller gobs and then was off again. like a good boy I wrapped the logs and the gobs all up in a plastic bag but something went amiss — a tear in the plastic ? no some of it got on the upper part of the bag and when I tied it — well . . frankly I got dogshit on my hand and it was really not cool. my sinistral digits no less (am of the left hand) . . I tried to wipe it off on the bag itself but that didnt really work so I picked up some paper off the street a catalog or something for a grotesque supermarket chain but it was dirty too and made everything worse . . I tried the patch of grass outside the methodist chapel and then a tree somewhat further along the block . . nothing worked I could see it on my fingers the dogshit goddamit it was still there ! I got to the place and ordered my egg sandwich with the dogshit on my hand
no thats all, says dino
and then I waited for a minute with the dogshit on my hand thinking about the dogshit on my hand all I could think about for that minute until I resolved to do something drastic. I would have to leave potato with this tall dad guy who was also waiting for a sandwich (?) withis kid and talking to another dad guy withis kid — well if he can watch a human child he can take care o my canine, I reckoned.
say man, would you watch potato for a moment while I run inside ?
oh uh, sure, he says
and potato gave me a look like, am alright heh heh this kids chump change, she also implied that he was the butter and she the skillet. I went inside like a one-handed maniac scurried to the bathroom and delved my hand into the hottest stream of water the sink could muster . . soap. soaped. soap and soap and soaped it . . until I couldnt see the dogshit anymore.
jesus, says dino drying his hands
yes, it was frightful. but I made it back outside with a clean hand and retrieved my ward bearing many thanks. she was sniffing a large greegn and yellowed leaf which the boy was holding out to her
no worries, says the dad guy, shes great
heh heh, goes potato
and then my egg sandwich came out of the window and we said so long to the dad guy and his baby boy and then we were on our way and everything was alright