My dog provided me with a wonderful opportunity this morning to clean up my shit. I couldn’t help but notice the metaphor when it was staring me right in the face, or the nose, so to speak. I was walking with Brodie in the neighborhood and, not coincidentally, listening to Abraham and Esther Hicks on YouTube. Just when I was at the best part, an instrumental concept about aligning my vibration with that of my Inner Being, letting my enthusiasm for an idea be enough, and not forcing it—the exact message that I needed to hear—Brodie takes a dump. Right on the neighbor’s lawn.
The thing about Brodie is that he never dumps anywhere but at home. Never. So I’ve gotten into the lazy habit of never bringing a bag, and now I’m standing in front of my neighbor’s house with four dog logs lying on the grass and no bag.
I’m a good neighbor. I absolutely refuse to leave poop on a neighbor’s lawn. But it’s 8 in the morning and I hate to knock on the door and possible wake up the people inside or freak them out just to ask for a bag. Suddenly, I spy a local paper on the driveway next door. I walk over, gently remove the paper from the thin plastic bag, and place it on a dry spot of their driveway. Then I take the bag. Of course, it’s narrow and thin so I’m nervous and mad at myself for not bringing my own double-ply, blue bags but I use the narrow, skinny bag, pick up my dog logs, tie off the top, and start for home.
I hold the plastic bag in one hand and, with the other; I hit the play arrow on my iPhone so I can listen to Abraham and Esther as I walk back. I smile at the other dog walkers, morning gardeners, and people off to work. I listen to how to move out of impatience and let enthusiasm be enough. I swing the bag in my right hand while Brodie continues his sniff-fest. The world appears in sharp contrasts: the greens of the hedges, the blue of the sky, the black of the crows swooping by.
It caught me off guard when my dog took a dump and I was bag-less. My first response was to move into fear, helplessness, and a kind of despair. My dog took a crap! I don’t have a bag! There’s no one to ask! I’m a bad neighbor and I hate myself! But then, I looked around and my eye easily settled on a solution. Voilà! Plastic bag. Dog doo handled. As I approached my driveway, I found myself humming as I opened the brown lid of the garbage can and dropped in the bag. It’s true that ‘dog’ is ‘god’ spelled backwards. Thanks Brodie!