You Want Me to do What?

As my readers know, I despise littering. I particularly despise people who litter in my private parks and personal territories. And, I despise people who litter recycable cans in my private parks and personal territories because it means that The Woman is distracted from my personal needs, and wanders off to pick up the litter.

Yesterday, we went for a walk in the Nature Center and there were three beer bottles in the center of the stream. It looked as if someone had a few brewskies on the bridge, and simply toss their bottles into the water. I was disgusted, and The Woman, of course, went into action by moving into the stream to pick up the bottles.

There was one small issue, however. I did not feel like getting my toes wet for a total of 15 cents.

So The Woman was trying to reach the water, and I put on the brakes, asserting my attitude that while I hate trash, I hate getting my digits wet even more. So she stretches and I pull; she is calf deep in cold water and I am digging firmly into the muddy bank, refusing to budge.

Then, I realized something.

My collar was tight behind my ears, and if I shake my head just a little bit, I would be able to chase squirrels unhindered by either the leash or verbal commands. So, the struggle began but The Woman retrieved her quarry before I had a chance to become 100% successful in my covert mission.

I have no doubt that there will be a next time. And I am ready for it.


I Am Shiba. Water Would Be Fun if it Did Not Involve Getting One's Feet Wet.