Short Stories For The Wayward Soul

"Dogs"

Poop. I curse. Its poop. It sticks to my shoe like glue and I know I won't be able to get it off without infecting my hand with its vile stench. Dog poop reeks. How do I know?

Suddenly Teacup, a great Tibetan mastiff, jerks me forward into a run and I can't hope to keep up with him- the leash slips from my hand and my eyes widen. Its a squirrel. Or rather the squirrel. A gray squirrel with a white stripe runs as fast as it can up one of the parks tallest tree. Teacup barks and growls and jumps but to no reward. I guess I should be relieved that Teacup is so well trained as to not run off and leave for good. I walk up behind him, giving a whistle and he turns and plops down in front of me, allowing me to get the leash. I pat his head- "Running after Charles again- no, Teacup." I say, pointing a finger, he lowers his head with a low howl. Charles, the same squirrel Teacup chased for more than two weeks in a row, seems to wag his bushy tail with a certain smugness. I shake my head and we walk once again on our normal walk.

How do I know what dog poop smells like? Well, I am a dog walker. Yes, for three to four hours a day, seven days a week I walk one to three dogs everyday. Normally, they're wild dogs. No- not feral but very excited to go on a walk when their owner just can't. Like for instance- there's old Semore, an eleven year old blind lab who lives in a retirement home. He doesn't get out much, so for six bucks an hour I walk him through all of the places he used to go in his golden days. Get it? Golden... Lab.. Oh...

There's Smudge, a mix between a Shetland pony and a weiner dog I fricken swear. Hes a large white and black wiener dog who loves being complimented. Tell him hes a big boy and he smiles. Think I'm kidding? I walk him on Thursdays. Its Friday, so from three to six I walk this big hunk of fluff and fur, Teacup. I've grown quite fond of Teacup- I've been walking him for three years now. His owner is an eighty year old woman who bakes me a cake every now and then- I can't say I don't appreciate the thought- my own mom doesn't bake me cakes out of the blue.

Teacup turns to me and wags his tail as we get close to his house- I can see Mary at the window. I pet his head and open the gate to his yard- unleashing him. "Hug-" I say, hitting my chest twice. He stands on his hind legs and puts his arms on my shoulders- I smile and chuckle- "Have a good day, Teacup." He runs away to Mary and I watch as she bends down to pet him, a smile lighting her face.