August 31, 2021

And we’re waiting for?


If aliens saw us walking our dogs and picking up their poop, who would they think is in charge



Waldo’s agitating me to take him out for a poop and pee walk.  This happens three or four times a day even after the six-mile walks we do.  It starts with him coming in from the balcony, where he likes to hang out, and he lies down and stares at me from a spot on the floor that is well within my visual range.  I’m usually sitting in my recliner, writing, reading or watching TV and his favorite spot to glare at me is under the kitchen table about ten feet away.  He has no other reason for being in that spot except to get my attention.  Every time I turn to look at him, he is there, staring at me.  He never whines or paces.

I’m pretty sure he is in no desperate need, he probably just wants to go outdoors and check out what condition its condition is in — beyond what he can see from the balcony.  This, I understand, but I’m involved with reading a book I’ve been meaning to finish for awhile, and it hasn’t been that long, about two hours, since we last went out and about.  I let his silent appeals pass and try to ignore them so I can continue what I’m doing.  I am mindful that he can’t even relieve himself without getting me to take him downstairs, but I also think he just gets bored sometimes and wants to be in the grass and bushes, sniffing around.  I weigh his needs against mine and decide he can wait a bit.  If I’m wrong, he’ll let me know.

After an hour or so, and several trips back out onto the balcony that take him right in front of me, he lets out a soft, short woof.  Just one.  I look at him and he stares back at me, giving me that border collie glare as if I were a sheep in dire need of being herded.  I look away and continue with my reading, but we both know the point has been made.  Another half-hour passes and he lets out a soft growl, followed by a more fervent, but still gentle, woof.  He is a very patient dog at these times and in these circumstances (certainly not in all things Waldo), but there are limits!

I sigh.  He is dependent on me in so many ways and I respect that.  I put the footrest of my recliner down.  Immediately, Waldo is up on his feet and looking at me with expectation.  I get up and he moves over to the door where he stands and again stares at me.  “I know, I know,” I tell him.  “Gimme just a minute.”  I put on my hat and grab a couple of dog treats.  He does his Waldo thing and walks around in a circle in front of the door a couple of times.  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” I say as if that would placate him.

As I futz around, he lies down and stares at me.  Finally (in his mind), I get over to the door and grab the leash.  He paws at me, then runs around in more circles.  He runs over to his dog dishes and gives them a good whack which, being aluminum, makes them clang with a resounding “gong” and sloshes water out onto the floor.  In effort to curb his frenetic pacing, I say, “Sit!”

In response, he gives me this look as if to say, “What are you talking about?   I wanna go out, not sit!”

“Sit,” I insist and don’t move until he complies.  I really want to train him to patiently wait while I’m getting ready for us to go out, like tying my shoes or attaching his leash to his collar.  But how do you train OCD and ADHD out of anyone?  He is a border collie, after all.  This Waldo-behavior has been going on for some time, as I’ve posted in the past, and we go through the same routine four, five times a day — it doesn’t change.

Finally, he plants his butt with a plop, as if reluctantly, for about a second, then is up and going in circles again.  “Sit,” I repeat and we go through this drill several times until we’re finally out the door.

Once outside, he is off doing his Waldo thing at the forward end of the leash.  He pees a bit, but doesn’t poop, this time, and, after about a half-mile stroll, we come to the door of the building.  There, I always have to tell him to “Drop it!”, as he always has apples or sticks in his mouth that I won’t allow him to bring inside.  He complies, usually willingly, and I give him a dog-treat – a negotiation we were able to work out some time in the past.

And so it goes.  We go back inside, me to my recliner, Waldo to his balcony, until the next time nature calls.

Waldo and I, it seems, are bonded by the power of poop and pee.


“I gotta pee, but where?”

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