She tells me that the dog has dumped twice and that she didn’t have any bags to pick it up with.

Because you didn’t fill up the roller, she says.

I have them in my pocket, I reply.

Fat lot of good that does me, she says. Well, you can pick them up for us on our way back if they’re still there and nobody’s stepped in them. I covered them up as best I could.

I tell her okay and we walk the rest of the relatively short distance left of my journey home, past the fluttering jews who flee in the face of my dog and who might just kill themselves if they happened to step in the left behind piles that Musette couldn’t clean up.

They’re not that bad, I say to myself. Off the road and well disguised. I pick them up. They are very cold but they are solid. A healthy dog and I am happy.

We make it the rest of the way home and I unwind into the television, eating from the load of snacks that Musette picked up on her way home

Thank you, I tell her. I needed this.  


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