Make a wish ©voyager, all rights reserved

While I was waiting at a stoplight today I watched a woman bend over to pick up her dog’s poop. She wore an expression of total disgust on her face and after she’d bagged the offending item she held it gingerly between her thumb and index finger as far away from her body as her arm would reach. She then took about 10 steps, stopped and set the bag down in front of a light standard and walked away.

I’ve seen bags of poop on the ground a few times and I’ve always just assumed that someone forgot it. I’ve done that – set the bag down while I fiddle with my camera and then forget to pick it up.* This wasn’t that, though. This was deliberately making her dog’s poop someone else’s problem. Someone like me who walks with a trash bag because I don’t like litter.  I think there should be a rule that if you aren’t prepared to deal with your dog’s shit then you shouldn’t have a dog.

*I almost always go back to pick it up.

The Marcus Magic Comb in action. ©voyager, all rights reserved

Jack doesn’t do a heavy shed in the springtime because normally we go to the east coast for the summer. There he swims in the cold water of the Gulf of St. Lawrence almost every day and he needs a bit of extra fluff for insulation and added buoyancy. This year we fooled him, though, and stayed home in good old hot and humid Ontario. The poor boy spent his summer with too much hair and despite all the hot weather he kept his undercoat. Now, as the weather cools down Jack has finally decided to shed all that hair and OMG is there a lot of it. His undercoat is blondish and it wads up in tufts that pull out like feathers and explode into handfuls. It’s almost like magic. That photo was taken after only a few passes with our Marcus Magic Comb and there seems to be no end to the hair that comes out. I can brush him until my arms are sore and still the hair keeps coming. Anyone want to borrow a dog for a few weeks?

©voyager, all rights reserved

My boy was all HappyJack™ this morning playing in the creek at the park. It isn’t my favourite place for him to swim because the water can be a bit smelly, but a quick dousing with the outdoor hose at home takes care of that easily enough. After the hosing Jack smells like an ordinary wet dog, which isn’t exactly odour-free, but it is familiar and I find it oddly comforting. Water equals pleasure for Jack and the whiffs of wet afterward tell me that my boy is tired and happy.

Jack fell asleep soon after getting home today (he is 11 after all) and I’m sure he’s dreaming about paddling and floating and maybe even catching a fish. I hope your day is filled with simple pleasures, too.