We were off to training today, and I wanted Buddy to “toilet” before we went to the class. I always feel (based on experience) that he concentrates better without a full bowel impinging on his brain. The same could probably be said for many people, but I digress.
So this afternoon, in what the media and weather forecasters are describing as arctic conditions yet again, Buddy and I were pounding the streets near the training venue. I repeatedly issued the command to “hurry up” which is our code word attached to toileting.
Obligingly he cocked his leg several times, and trotted along beside me in between. However, no “number two” was forthcoming. I marched him up and down until I could bear it no longer in that harsh wind, and we went to the class untoileted.
Toilet arrangements are uppermost in a dog owner’s mind far too often, whether it’s making sure your dog has frequent enough toilet breaks, or that he goes in the right location, or that you clear up his solid deposits.
In his book Buster’s Diary as Told to Roy Hattersley, Buster tells of his horror on realising that his owner Roy actually collects his poop. Buster immediately sets about pooping in the most inaccessible places possible, which poor Roy has to access for the purpose of scooping. For those who don’t know, Roy Hattersley was the Deputy Leader of the Labour Party from 1983 to 1992.
To find out more about Buster and his book visit his website, where you can see photos of him and even hear an extract. I can thoroughly recommend the book.
Meanwhile, back in “arctic” England, I was forced to take Buddy on another walk. With the snow swirling around us, I was forced to shove my way through some very spiky foliage to complete my own scooping, while Buddy loped off to scout out some more hard-to-reach places in which to perform his ablutions. Ah well, such is life.