oh.shit

Having a pet, especially a small cute dog generally bridges any type of social awkwardness that may exist. Crazies from Somerset Place often times quiver with delight when they see Luke, our roommate's Jack-A-Bee.

I received a phone call from Martzipan asking if I might be able to let Luke out this evening as he wasn't sure he'd be home at his usual time. I only had to utter the word "outside" to Luke and he leapt up from his perch on the sofa and excitedly pranced towards me.

Not more than mere seconds after attaching his leash and crossing the street he pooped several lil' nuggets, which frankly is better than his usual soft-serve.

As we approached Margate Park, about a block away, two young girls came running up to me. Ooh! they cooed. "Can we pet your dog?" I told them of course but that he wasn't the most social of creatures and not to be offended by his demeanor. The one girl commented on how long his nails are. The other one asked if he was "neutral" when I got him to which her friend immediately corrected her by saying "neutered".

"Yes he's neutered" I replied. They thanked me and said goodbye.

Understand that walking Luke is no day in the park per se. He is most often asphyxiating himself by pulling on his collar in a quest for any food that may have been dropped- and in this neighborhod you have to be quicker than him because there are a lot of scraps to be found.

Quite unexpededly on our way home Luke decided to make another present. I was mortified as I had already used the one bag I brought with me. I waited for him to finish and briskly returned home already feeling a bit like Hawthorne's tragic character Hester Prynne. I can hear the crazies chanting "guilty of leaving a dogs feces" as they slap a big brown "FO" on my chest, for "fecal-offender".

Worse yet, what if those two little girls lived inside the building that Luke pooped in front of and left a sign like the one above?