When you gotta go ...

Fortunately, this is not about me.

I took Claren for a walk last night because when I had the chance to take her out in the morning and at lunch it was raining.

In this neighborhood of unfriendly or absent sidewalks, I just walk in the street and that's fine.

The problem is picking up after Claren. If she goes near the curb, no problem. But farther into the grass can be an issue. I have a few spots where I can reach or there are workable curb cuts nearby so I can get into the grass easily.

Of course, she had no interest in going at the first two designated spots. Then halfway to the third, she jerks me into the grass. I jerked back but then saw she was clearly uncomfortable, so let her back in the grass, where she proceeded to poop between two and three feet from the curb.

No curb cuts nearby. I guess I could have gotten on the ground and crawled into the grass. How would explain that, though, to the people whose front yard I was crawling through. Plus, I would have gotten soaked.

Instead, I called Dad to come up a block and a half to pick up after my dog. He did. Pretty humiliating. Pretty loving, too.