Something Funny Happened On The Way

Something funny happened on the way to the mailbox, although it didn't seem so funny at the time. Walking to the mailbox around the corner at the end of our long street is something my old dog, Peppy, looks forward to almost as much as his daily can of Alpo. I held Peppy's leash in one hand and my income tax return in the other. My cell phone was in my right hip pocket and tucked into my back left pocket was a plastic bag for any poop that Peppy decided to deposit along the way. Just an ordinary day's walk to mail a letter, right?

Just when were in front of Sam Jimenez's house, Peppy decided it was time to relieve his bowels. He could hear the frustration in my voice when I complained, "Darn it, Peppy, why do you have to do it on the sidewalk right in front of the grumpiest neighbor on the block?" In answer to my frustration, he continued to deposit the largest pile of poop I've ever seen him do.

Hurriedly I tucked the tax return into my back right pocket and pulled the plastic bag out of the left, while keeping an eye at Sam's front window. Stooping down, I tried to determine how to get all that dog poop into the bag without soiling my hands. Just then, Peppy started growling at something across the street. It was Mrs. Parsley's big fat bulldog, Buster. Somehow Buster had gotten out and was running straight for Peppy, who is half his size. I'm not sure what went through Peppy's mind at the time, but he suddenly lunged into the street right at Buster, almost jerking the leash out of my hand. That pulled me off balance, and to steady myself, I put my other hand down into – you guessed it – that foul smelling pile of Peppy's excrement.

Can you picture what happened next? I loosened my grip on the leash, Peppy pulled away and he and Buster started warily circling each other, both growling and at the same time, wagging their tails. Mrs. Parsley ran out and started screaming at both them and me. When she saw them go at each other's throats, she grabbed a garden hose, turned on the water, and liberally doused the dogs with water. Since I was charging up to grab Peppy's leash, the full force of the water also hit me.

"Mr. Smith, sorry about getting you wet, too. But that's what you get for not keeping a tight rein on that vicious dog of yours," Mrs. Parsley explained. With that she grabbed Buster's collar and dragged him into her back yard.

"Okay, Jack," began the conversation I had with myself. "Let's assess the situation. You're soaking wet, your left hand is covered in dog poop, and the plastic bag and the pile of poop are still on the sidewalk. Your tax return is still in your back pocket, dry and unsullied. All is not yet lost. Calm yourself."

I tried to take my own advice as I bent down and bagged up the poop as best I could. There was still a big brown smear on Sam Jimenez's sidewalk, and I now had dog poop on both hands and on the dog leash. So when the cell phone in my pocket rang, I made no attempt to answer it. I imagined I was missing a really important phone call, like I'd just won the $10,000 jackpot in a radio station contest and had to claim it in the next hour.

The sound of female laughter interrupted my thoughts. Turning around, I saw it was the cute single lady who'd recently moved into the house next door to Sam.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Smith. I shouldn't be laughing. But you ought to see yourself! And that look on your face when your cell phone was ringing was so…so…well, exasperated and pathetic."

"Miss Lopez, I don't blame you for laughing. In fact, I'd probably do the same if I was in your shoes." I responded, as I looked into those beautiful green eyes framed by that high cheek-boned face with a near-perfect complexion. This was the most conversation we'd had since she'd moved here.

"Call me Angela. Is there anything I can do to help you? Like bring you a towel to clean yourself off?"

"Okay, Angela. Jack is my first name, but I'd better not shake your hand. A towel would be nice, but I what I really need is for you to retrieve my tax return out of my pocket and put it into the mail for me."

She laughingly complied. It's funny how such a wonderful relationship developed from that trip to the mailbox.