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Sometimes the solution is worse than the problem…

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Picking my daughter up from kindergarten is an adventure. We have no bus service, so one has to either walk a short 15 minutes, or drive. I’m fine with walking, personally, but my 3 year old who has to accompany us has a different view on things. I’d like to say I just told him to deal with it, but with temperatures over 100 for the past two weeks, I can’t say I blame him for complaining.

I also have to contend with the fact that I have this puppy. A puppy with separation anxiety. A puppy who needs exercise and stimulation. Brody comes along.

We have a couple of options when we get to the school if we drive. We can park on a nearby street and walk a block in, which allows me to pick my daughter up right outside her classroom door, or I can wait in line to load her into my car. Option 2 is nice when the toddler is napping, or when Brody is being rambunctious, but man that line takes forever to get through. So I decided to chance it with walking in.

I was admittedly nervous trying to shepherd a 3 year old boy, a 12 week old dog, and a 5 year old girl along a busy street. I was also concerned with how Brody would handle being in the middle of a sardine can of cacophony when the kiddos filed out en masse. I had visions of a red faced kindergartner grabbing his throat in the throes of an anaphylactic reaction while the stern faced principal looked me up and down, disapprovingly writing down my name and conscripting my daughter to 6 years of hard labor in the xerox room.

Instead, it actually played out about as one would expect if you were to bring a Golden Retriever puppy into the midst of an elementary school. He was a rock star.

“Aw, he’s so cute!” said a parent. Times 10.

“Can I pet him?” asked a brave first grader.

“Sure, I replied. “Thanks for asking.”

“Can I pet him?” ” Can I pet him?” “How about me?” “Can I pet him too?” The next thing I knew, Brody was surrounded by 15 sets of little hands, reveling in the glory of his adorableness while his own 5 year old owner proudly announced, “That’s MY dog Brody.”

I was also concerned about using this school as a training tool, trying to teach him manners in the middle of about the biggest kind of distraction you can get. That ended up not being the problem.

The problem was forgetting to walk him before leaving the house.

Right as we were smack dab in the middle of the school grounds, surrounded by a sea of impressionable youngsters with questionable handwashing habits, Brody hunched over and deposited a nice, healthy compost heap in the middle of their grassy knoll.

I, of course, did not have my plastic bags with me.

There was a collective gasp.

I stood there. There was no escape. I had blown it. There would be no recovery from leaving a pile of poop at ground zero kid central. I looked around, panicked. The restrooms were miles away; between it and me, a sea of disapproving faces. We were surrounded by feet, many of which were wearing Crocs and/or similarly permeable foot apparel.

So I did what any respectable dog owner would do, and what any respectable mom would never do. I used my daughter’s art project from the day to clean it up. I HAD NO CHOICE. Ugh. I am sure this will end up being discussed in therapy 15 years from now, when my daughter is bitterly telling a bearded man in a cardigan how her mother used her beloved kindergarten memento as a poop bag. I owe her a pre-emptive ice cream/Barbie.

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Comments

  1. She will need to get a lot of Barbies for payback for emotional trauma and for the destruction by Brody!

  2. as an ex dog walker who found out that dogs can poop FOUR TIMES, which is two times past when the bag has been gotten rid of, i feel your pain. and it’s never in a back alley. it’s on the greenbelt of a gated community or literally on someone’s driveway as they’re washing their car. so even when you plan ahead and bring a bag, doesn’t even matter. :/

  3. Ahahahahaha! The best! Your poor daughter, I can just imagine her face. From proud owner to Moooooom in 0.2 seconds…
    There will be other art projects, but she totally deserves an ice cream.

  5. OMG! Way to go on the creative doggie bag. You do what you have to do! Including taking the 5 year old out to ice cream a few times with her new Barbies!

  7. Trust me,, by the time she finishes the first quarter, you’ll have art masterpieces popping out your ears. My 9 yo son still gets upset when I throw ANY of his papers away, even the worksheets. Currently, there is a 3-D topical map of the USA sitting on an end table, looking like 2 turds in grass. (They used brown clay for the mountain ranges and green for the flat lands.) Mind if I send your way as a backup popper scoop?

  10. My pup has a nervous tummy so she eliminates when she get nervous, and she gets really nervous in crowds, with loud music (local blues festival was going on) while crossing the street in front of a police officer on a day when I had forgotten to bring her little pack of bags. Sadly, I had no art project with me so I had to run into the nearest building (happened to be the local seedy pub) to get napkins while the cop held up traffic.
    I say there should be an Embarassing Doggy Poop support group.