(Yes, this dog. He looks so innocent…)
In every other way, that moment of the walk was unexceptional. I was standing on the grass, waiting for Oreo to finish his business, unrolling a plastic baggie to be ready to pick it up. Murray was wandering around, sniffing the grass, and Behr was just standing at the end of his leash waiting patiently. This is a moment that has happened literally thousands of times before (based on the number of baggies we go through, it’s probably been several hundred times in 2014 alone!)
And then it happened. Murray wandered over towards me, and lifted his leg, just a little bit too close to where I was standing. And before I knew it, my toes were squelching in my crocs.
Okay, I’ll admit it, I shrieked, which confused Murray enough that he stopped. And then I stood there, with wet toes, and three dogs staring at me like they had no idea why I’d lost my mind (“mom’s acting nutso again,” I’m sure they were thinking to themselves), and I did what any rational human being would at that moment. I called my partner for help and sympathy.
“Hello?” she answered the phone. I don’t usually call her while walking the dogs unless there’s been an emergency, so I’m sure visions of runaway dogs or broken bones were flashing through her mind.
“Murray peed on my toes!”
And she laughed.
“It’s not funny!” I responded indignantly.
I’m pretty sure her response was just to laugh more.
And really, what else can you do at that moment, except laugh, pick up after your dog, and finish your walk with squelching toes? (And of course, wash your feet and shoes the second you walk in the door!)