A New Trick

I have to laugh. We live in a very friendly neighborhood where everybody waves to everybody. If someone doesn’t wave at you, he probably doesn’t live here. My dog Charlie and I walk at least once every day it isn’t raining—that’s a lot of walks and a lot of waving. Today the warm spring sun seemed to suck people out of their houses. The ’hood was swarming with folks, so today when Charlie and I were trotting along, I did a whole lot of waving. What made me laugh was remembering something embarrassing about our walks and waving.

Charlie turned 5 in January, and it took me until this winter to figure out a new way to do this. Here’s what I always did. I’d click Charlie’s leash on him, wrap the loop around my right wrist and grab the leash tightly in my right hand. In case he gallops into runaway locomotive mode toward another dog, I want my stronger arm attached to him. Okay, so when he pooped, I’d tie his little treasure in a bag and continue walking with the bag in my left hand. Then a neighbor would drive or walk by and, of course, wave at us, and I’d wave back with, of course, my left hand, since my right arm was taut trying to rein in my charging rhino. In essence, my standard sidewalk greeting for 5 years has been holding up my dog’s excrement to my neighbors.

What’s worse, it was so second-nature to wave that I didn’t think about it until it was too late, and I had once again dangled a stinking sack in a neighbor’s direction. It usually dawned on me just as I was giving my wrist that little howdy flick, because that would cause the pendulous pouch to swing. (I can just picture Mr. Bean doing this with his hapless, endearing, smeary, mime smile—only he would probably stuff the sack in his pocket or smash it into his forehead when he realized what he’d waved with.)

My logic was: I have two hands and two things to hold, so one goes in each hand, right? It only makes sense. Finally, this winter, I had one too many oops moments and determined to find a different way. During one of our winter wonderland walks, it dawned on me that I could hold two things in one hand (what a brainstorm, eh?), and I began lacing the clean end of the bag through the fingers holding the leash. This leaves my left hand free to wave without insult. At the time, I thought my solution was brilliant; now it seems so obvious. Anyway, I have to laugh. There’s probably a joke in this story somewhere—you know, maybe about teaching an old dog mom new tricks. :-)