The General Situation

New Motto

Escapee

The Heart Bleeds

Today's Specials

Does It Get a Lunch Break?

Raisin Bran?

Shadow Awning

I Miss Lynda Barry

Googly Eyes Make Everything Better

Can't a Pug Get Some Privacy?

I was walking Howard on Worth Street today when he decided to poop on a part of the sidewalk made extra narrow by a pile of garbage bags. Normally, he gives some warning—a straight sprint that we call "the poop run"—but this time he went directly into a squat. Ever since his spinal surgery, he tends to walk while he squats, often in a vague circle. This isn't such a big deal in City Hall Park, where there's room to maneuver. Worth Street is another story....

Two groups of pedestrians, it turns out, were right behind me. I never got a good look at the first group. I only heard one of them mutter a complaint about my sudden stop, to which I responded, "My dog is pooping and you'd be wise to get out of the way!" (Because of that vaguely circular walking, the poops often shoot out tangentially. It also means the person picking up the poop has to hustle to keep up; since this had all come as a surprise, I had to warn everyone to watch where he or she walked.) They took my advice and moved on: One even blithely wheeled his cart right over a poop, clearing it by a hair.

The second group, who had a Midwestern air about them, decided to stay and watch till Howard was done. "Everyone poops!" said one, as I was reaching down to do my caregiver duty. "Still warm!" said another. I wasn't sure of the appropriate response—if he had phrased it as a question, I might have offered to let him feel the bag for himself—so I simply replied, "Yeah, you bet." Unsatisfied, he yelled it louder: "Still warm!" And they were off.