I have to say that Savannah loves to walk, and it seems that the colder it is outside, the slower she will walk. This dog must love the cold weather... very different than our dog Gracie who would run out by herself into the yard and do what she needed to do quickly and then run back into the house. Gracie knew that the words "Hurry up!" meant that she should either pee or poop (thanks to an old dog training book I read by Barbara Wodehouse).
When I say "Hurry up!" to Savannah she must interpret those words as "Take all the time in the world because I have nothing else to do." Very frustrating at times, especially when it's windy or rainy or cold. In a perfect world, every time Savannah needs to be walked, the sun would be out and there would be no wind and the temperature would be a balmy 80 degrees. As I said-- in a perfect world.
My husband has begun to walk Savannah in the mornings, which is indeed a great help since I have three cats to feed and their litter boxes to clean out before my day starts. Savannah has been extremely patient with the cats' schedule... she will wait for me to give Sweet Pea his food and clean out his litter box..... and then Savannah also waits while I go into the garage and let Gatsby and Mickey out for the day and then clean out the two litter boxes in the garage. Only after all of that does Savannah get to go for a walk. When we first got Savannah, she had top priority just because she was a puppy. But as she got older and learned to contain herself, I started taking care of the cats first.
But when my husband does the morning walk with her, Savannah doesn't have to wait for all of that cat stuff. On the other hand, Savannah hardly ever poops when she's walking with my husband. She will do the pee-thing but that's about it. The result of that is I end up re-walking her when Gary brings her back and more than likely, Savannah saves her poop so I can pick it up. Oh goodie.
When my dad was living with us in Clear Lake years ago, he would come with me when I took Gracie out for walks. My father was appalled that I would walk "Gary's dog" to begin with, and he was thoroughly shocked that I would pick up Gracie's poop. My dad's theory was that if Gracie was Gary's dog, then Gary should be doing all the walking and poop-scooping. I reminded my dad that Gary had a job to go to every day. "Then he shouldn't have a dog," said my dad.
I explained to daddy that Gracie belonged to both of us, but my father didn't see it that way. "Gary gets the fun parts, you get the dirty parts. And what man is going to want to kiss your hand when he finds out that you're picking up dog poop." My dad said that I took time to polish my nails so why would I want to spoil them up with "that dog's mess."
I told daddy that I used plastic bags to pick up Gracie's poop so my hands never touched anything, and besides, what man did he think would be kissing my hand anyway.
My dad's answer to that was "Men today don't know what they're missing." To make his point, after dinner that particular night, my dad took my hand in his and he gently and lovingly kissed kissed my hand and thanked me for dinner, then he said "See there... isn't that nice?" Actually, it was.
Gary did indeed walk Savannah this morning... and within three minutes of coming back into the house, Savannah was wagging her tail and giving me her paw and making serious eye contact with me which translates into "I. Have. To. Go. Out. Now." I put my coat and boots on and out we went, and within just a few minutes, Savannah did indeed find a place in the grass to poop. As always, I picked it up with a plastic bag. Even out here in the Hills, where coyotes and deer and raccoons and wild pigs and heaven only knows what else will drop their excrement wherever they please, I feel compelled to pick up Savannah's poop.
When one has a dog, it's just the right thing to do. Plus, now that my dad is gone, there's not a man on the planet that will be kissing my hand.
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