I’d like to share with you a random thought I had today on the state of apartment dwellers who own dogs. I just pulled in to one of the few shady parking spots near my humble abode here in the “Mud Huts on Pantano” and was uncommonly struck by a common sight. A comely young lass out to let her canine companion relieve itself of the kibble knocking at it’s backdoor, yearning to be free. After Spot did the deed, said lass, in deference to the barefoot neighborhood children, dutifully slipped a brown (how poetic) bag of her dainty little hand, bent over (I need to thank her parents!) and scooped up the freshly reconstituted kibble and deftly pulled the bag backwards over the offensive, former canine feast. Now holding the warm, steaming contents of this little bag in her hand she praised the doggie and carried the polyethylene packet over to the dumpster and transferred ownership of the goods.
My questions are:
How much do you have to love something to carry around a plastic bag of their waste?
Would they do the same for their mate?