I should start with the major creature event of the past two days, the four dog walk. Such excitement there was once they figured out that we were indeed going this time. The major problem for the humans involved was that we were short of time. The sunlight was running out on us and we had a supper engagement in the not-too-distant future.
The dogs' usual excitement overwhelmed them. Since they had not been out for a while, that gave me pause (not really a pun), but we were late. All four dashed for the stairs and down, doing the dogs' version of yelling. Dexter is the worst. Imagine a large beagle beside himself with excitement. Mary threatened to kill him; I would have given her a weapon.
In any case they were down, while I was coming through the living room to get to the stairs. I looked down (well, I always look down; that's what neuropathy and arthritis does to one, takes your head and forces it down, among other things, and numbs and pains your feet!). There before me was a fresh pee stain. Schuster the Excited had left his mark, spelled out his name on the rug! I yelled, Mary grabbed paper towels and the bottle of Resolve, blotted the mess, sprayed it, and put the bottle on top of the towels on the floor. We were later.
We hurried down stairs, into the garage. I was about to say, shouldn't we make sure the little monster doesn't poop in the car again? Then, I said it! She said, "We're late. He'll be all right!" Where that unbridled optimism came from I have no idea, unless she had already noticed the garage floor beside the rear tire, passenger side, where there glistened a rather large pile of dog poo. Schuster, or Simon. Simon or Schuster? Simon was acting mighty strange. In any case I got the downstairs towels, the downstairs bottle of Febreze, rolled up my sleeves and dealt with it. By this time all four beasts were in the car, I armed Vivint, the perimeter defense system, got in the car, and we pulled out, already exhausted, but going for a walk with the guys!
I don't understand why "going for a walk" always reminds me of Milton's Pandemonium, Pope's "dread chaos and eternal night.," and Shakespeare's Scotland (Macbeth). Ah the uses of a literary education!
The walk was pretty much uneventful. Since pain and disease force me to look down when tromp down the blacktop trail, and since Simon is always in the lead, except when he is not, I am always watching where my feet are going as well as watching Simon walk. I have noticed a kind of mathematical symmetry in his movement, especially with his hind legs. The front legs and back legs seem to be independent of one another. It is probably not true, yet there he goes, like Paul Bunyan's dog who was accidentally cut in two with an ax and sewn back together upside down, so that he could use either pair of legs for walking just by turning himself over. Still, Simon's legs seem to move independently of each other, and with a beautiful mathematical symmetry, at least when he hasn't stopped to eat something or pee on something he can't eat!
Which reminds me, he will eat the God-awfullest things out there. The walk before this one I caught him trying to gulp down a glob of decayed vegetation and dark matter that would have choked a moose. He sees me out of the corner of his eye and tries to toss it back before I can pull him away! Disgusting little beast! No wonder his breath is foul, and I let him eat off my fork! Well, just goes to show you how seriously you should take all that I write.
That seems like a good place to stop for a while, since supper is ready, and I am being summoned, by She-who-must-be-obeyed!