The thing they don’t tell you about getting a puppy is that you start to spend a disproportionate amount of time worrying about dog poop.
It’s a little unnerving.
All of the sudden, your world pretty much revolves around bowel movements. You rearrange your calendar entirely on when the dog has to go. Your mood hangs in the balance of whether the dog goes outside or in. And if she starts sniffing the floor, you jump on her like a live hand grenade.
In a way, I guess it makes you appreciate the small things.
Before Natty, I never knew the sheer joy and relief that could come when someone poops in my backyard instead of in my kitchen. In reality, it’s only the difference of about 3 feet. But that 3 feet makes all the difference.
They say football is a game of inches. I guess you could say the same about dog poop.
Walk a mile in my underpants 