The lost art of divination

My dog did something interesting this morning. Now you all know I have so much going on that I just can't think straight. Cover blown ... another pet-related dog. As if my previous blog didn't outline this fact well enough, animals (and specifically my dog) are gross. They do things that are literally unfathomable in the normally-operating human mind.

For instance, this morning's walk started like all other dog walks. Bailey, nose planted into the ground pulling the very essence of every solid, liquid or gas from it. Me, tugging on the leash to remind her that something much larger and smarter than her was in control and desperately trying to avoid another chicken bone incident. It was cold and running shorts were probably not the best choice, but they were the first thing I pulled out of the dryer and I was told (erroneously) by a voice on the radio -- oh, someone remind me to rant about how annoying radio voices are --that it was 50 degrees outside.

Now, it's not rare for a dog to sniff where other dogs have *left their mark*. We almost expect it. In fact, we almost overlook it, scarcely giving more than a pull on the leash or a strongly spoken *no*. But this is disgusting! Your precious little dog is sticking his or her nose in urine, and they're going to want to shove that nose into your pant leg -- or worse face -- at some point. No, thank you. Question why your dog's nose is wet next time. Anyway, pee is one thing ... but what about that other stuff? That's right ... poop (incidentally one of the most inappropriately hilarious words in any language).

This particular morning, Bailey decided she was an Oracle, and her means of divining the future were the leavings of some other, obviously smaller, dog ... or cat? Either way, here was my dog (who I was not coaxing onward because I wanted to leave something of her own ...), pawing at this previously neatly piled mess; moving a piece to one side, then the other; staring intently at the progress of her activity as if it were going to tell her where some hidden treasure of rotten food might be.

Obviously, I was disgusted upon learning what my dog was doing while my eyes wandered up and down the block. This is one of the things that I thought separated dogs from cats. Cats are always walking around in their own ... whatever ... but not dogs ... not dogs. Even if she had somehow spoken at that moment and given me some glimpse into my own future, as represented by this now-disheveled pile of crap, it would not have softened the blow. She was going to lick that poop off of her feet at some point, and she was going to want to lick me at some point, and her shitty feet were going to want to be on my furniture at some point. This. This is the real future laid out before her. And it's absolutely gross.