How Do They Know When It Poops?!

I wanted to share some "stories" since I've moved into my new rental area. I'd written a few things down that happened that made me laugh or smile, so I wanted to post them here on my blog.


Story 1: Meeting the neighbour

"Hang on," said my new neighbour, Aaron. "My son wants me to lift him up so he can say hello."
He disappeared for a moment, and a curious face popped over the fence in his place.
"Hi! I'm Harry." A little boy, about 6 years old, was grinning at me. One of his baby teeth were missing.
"Hi Harry," I said. "I'm Tam. This is my dog Napolean, and I'm also taking care of the little dog."
"What is the little dog's name?" asked Harry.
"It's Henry - sounds a bit like your name."
"No," Harry corrected me. "My name is like Harry Potter."
"Oh..." I paused. "Are you magic?"
"Nope," he admitted with a shrug. While I was trying to think of something else to say, Harry suddenly aught sight of the shovel I was leaning on. His eyes travelled down curiously to the hole I'd started to dig in the garden.
"So," he said conversationally, "are you enjoying digging up all that dirt?"
I swallowed a grin, and explained: "I'm going to plant something there."
"What sort of thing are you planting?"
Curious kid, this. "Well, it's a vine - sort of like the one you have growing over the fence here."
Aaron's voice came from behind the fence: "Our vine has beautiful flowers in the spring. I'm afraid they'll probably fall over into your backyard."
"No problem with me," I assured him quickly. I hated people who complained about a neighbours plant growing over their fence. Why would you complain about a bit of extra shade, or a beautiful addition to your garden?
"There'll be lots of flowers," added Harry enthusiastically. "That'll be good for you, coz they might cover up all the dog poo."
He'd obviously caught site of the big pile of excrement Napolean had just dumped unceremoniously in the middle of the yard. "That would be good, I agreed, grinning," but Harry had disappeared again. I heard a muffled "Ouch!" from Aaron as Harry presumable scrambled down from his shoulders.
Chuckling to myself, I continued my gardening until Ambrose came outside to see what I was doing.
"You missed meeting the neighbours," I told him. "There's Aaron, and his son, Harry, like in Harry Potter - except he says he's not magic."
"Damn," said Ambrose.


Story 2: Teaching a kids music workshop

I have a new job, as a flute teacher/music tutor at a kids music acadamy. It's only casual work at the moment, but is expected to become more regular shortly. Last week Ambrose and I took a singing workshop for kids at the academy. This is a conversation I had with one of the students whose Mum works at the academy. 

"Why do you have that dog? My Mum says it's because you have depression."
"Well, yes," I replied carefully, "sometimes I do have that, but not at the moment."
"What is depression?" he asked.
I thought for a second, wondering how to explain. "Well, you know how everybody feels sad, sometimes?"
He nodded.
"Well, depression is a sadness that is not normal, because you feel it for no reason. It can go on for a long time, and make you feel very tired and unwell."
"I know!" he said, as though suddenly grasping it. "It's a bit like how I feel when I have the flu and I'm stuck at home by myself.. I'm tired and also sort of lonely - even though my brother is always there, he's so annoying - and sometimes when I have the flu I just lay around and sigh."
I shot a small grin at Ambrose before replying: "You're right! It can be a bit like having the flu."
He seemed to be pondering this. "So.. so is that what your dog is for? For you to hug when you get that lonely feeling?"
I was taken aback, amazed at the perception of kids. "You know," I told him, "I think you've got it about right."


Story 3: Curious shoppers in the mall

Yesterday, Napolean and I went for an adventure to the shops. A torrent of people came up to us; asking me questions, trying to pat Napolean... I don't suppose they realised how overwhelming it was, for both of us! Poor old N-dog was shivering in his paws, so to speak. As we sat down together for a coffee in the central cafe, a passing lady suddenly leaned accross my table, and leering at me, said loudly: "I never understood how blind people know when their dog has done a poop?!" As you can imagine, I was rather taken aback by the question, and the seriousness in which it was asked.
"Um... well, I'm not blind, so I wouldn't know..?"
"Oh, you're not blind?!" she screeched. More than one head turned to look at us. I don't know who was more embarrassed, me or my dog.
"Then what is you're service dog for?!" the (presumable crazy) lady basically yelled. I opened my mouth to frame an answer, but she had already started to walk away, croaking to herself: "how do they know when it poops?!"



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I hope you liked my stories! Here are some pictures I took when I was mucking around and checking out the cool photo-effects on my lap-top!

 

~Tam~