I’m dog sitting again, which I don’t really mind because Mr. Biggz is 10 lbs. of pure cuteness.
What does constitute a good deed of sorts, I think, is the pooping /scooping aspect of dog sitting. (Just as diaper-changing nudges babysitting into good-deed territory.)
There’s something about handling the doo-doo of someone outside your nuclear family that merits extra credit in the goodwill department.
And it’s a trickier operation than you may realize. Each dog seems to have its own idiosyncrasies when it comes to this area of activity.
Mr. Biggz, for example, will only “get down to business” if you pretend you’re not watching. The fact that he’s squatting down in broad daylight on a busy street is immaterial. “Talk amongst yourselves,” his big brown eyes seem to say as he gets into position.
Last night’s just-before-bedtime walk was especially challenging because, without a flashlight, you could spend hours searching in the tall grass for his little cigarillos.
I guess I could’ve have just kept walking, but what kind of good deed doer would I be then?
P.S. I’m driving four hours to Port Loring, Ontario, tonight to sing with some friends at a fundraiser for a teen drug-prevention program. I’ll try to post tomorrow, but, if not, then see you Sunday!