Walking Mishaps and Meeing Mr Wooderson by Pocket Dog

This summer has been prime time for walking.  We take our stroll at dusk when the hot sun is setting, and the pavement has cooled.  

My parents like to joke with us during our walk.  They tell me not to bark at everything I see, not to yip at the houses where I know a dog lives, not to howl if I see another dog walking near me.  My parents are very funny.

There are very few cars when we walk.  We live in a senior citizen complex and dusk is pajama and tea time.  Some rebels like us and take a late night stroll while most of our neighbors are turning down their beds and fluffing their pillows.

We are definitely the last dogs are out the street, which is good for us.  There is a big rock by the stream where everyone leaves their pee mail.  We get caught up on all the news of the day and leave our mail to be read by the early morning strollers.

River and I like to do the down and under while we walk.  One of us is on the right, and the other is on the left.  The one of us on the right slows down, waits for the one of the left to get ahead, and then we dip down behind them to become the one of the left.  We continue to do this, for a hundred times in five minutes, until our leashes are so twisted together we walk like Siamese twins and my feet barely touch the ground.  Daddy grumbles while he is getting works to get our leashes unraveled knowing he will have to do it five minutes later.

Some of the neighbors don’t like us pooping on their lawn, so I poop on the road.  I hope this is appreciated.  On hot days it sizzles like bacon.  There is always a little poop trace left behind.  I feel like I have left a star on Hollywood Boulevard.

There is a new guy who has moved to our community.  I don’t like him.  I think he bothers all the nice women who walk the site and say hi to me.  He has long silver hair and a silver mustache.   His name is Mr. Wooderson.  Yesterday he drove up next to three women in is golf cart and stopped next to them.  “All right, all right, all right,” he said.

“Any of you ladies need a ride?  This baby has an Auto Craft 6-volt.  I pop the clutch on this thing it gets up to 25 on the open road.  It’s got some muscle.  Any of you interested in hopping aboard?”

The woman with the dyed red hair got in.  “I love these redheads,” he said.  “Any of you ladies got any medicinal marijuana?”  They said no.  “It’d be a lot cooler if you did,” he answered.  

“You girls want to see Aerosmith this weekend?” he asked.  “They are all living in a double wide near the front.  I can hook you up.”  They excitedly agreed.  He looked over at us grinning.  “That’s what I love about senior citizen living man.  I get older; they stay the same age.  76.”

He drove away in his golf cart.  I told River if he did not curb his behavior we would poop on his lawn and not clean it.  Mommy agreed.