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A Dog’s Business

It is 9 AM on just another sunny morning in the Manoa Valley of Honolulu.
On a quiet suburban street, a woman is walking her dog.  They are crossing the driveway to an apartment complex when, without breaking stride, the dog drops his business on the pavement.  Smack in the middle of the driveway.

Now, as anyone who has walked a dog surely knows, this is unusual.  The average Snoopy just doesn’t do no. 2 any old place.  The forms must be obeyed.  Prospective sites must be sniffed out, and it simply is not acceptable, except in dire emergency, to dump on the first possible site.  Then, after the ritual of picking a place is completed, there is the rite of posture.  The Tao of Turd.  The feet placed … so.  The back arched, just this way …  And then, of course, the pile must be inspected before it is left for discovery by the next unsuspecting pair of suede pumps.

It’s either a very strange dog or a very headstrong and inattentive owner that will short-circuit all this ritual, so that the dog will unceremoniously drop his business in the middle of the driveway of an apartment complex in suburban Honolulu.  But, evidently the woman knows her dog.  Looks like they’ve been at this awhile.  She immediately stops, heels the dog, reaches into her purse and pulls out the baggie into which she will scoop the offending objects.

Along comes a car.  A nice, middle-sized, middle-class car, driven by what appears to be a nice, middle-sized, middle-class woman.  And it’s headed for the apartment complex.  Now, it’s a quiet, suburban street, and there aren’t any other cars about.  Moreover, it’s 9 o’clock in the morning, and the apartments are inhabited entirely by Ph.D.-holding faculty and staff at the University of Hawai’i.  One would think that the driver would observe the predicament of the woman and the dog and either wait or go around – it’s a double driveway.  Those in need of haste would be the ones leaving the complex, no?  But this car means to get down that driveway.  Now.  The driver hardly slows down as she turns, practically plowing over the woman and her dog.

Yep.  You guessed it.  Left rear tire.  Put away the baggie, honey, you won’t be needing it now.  Just as well that the complex doesn’t have enclosed garages.

Y’know, I have been seeing an awful lot of rainbows lately.  Like as if God’s trying to remind God’s self of something.  I can almost hear God counting.

“... eight … nine … nine and a half … nine and three-quarters … nine and seven-eights …

Meanwhile, the cockroaches are carrying on at the foot of the celestial throne.

“Hey, Jah!  Is it Armageddon yet?  Can we take over now?  Huh?  Huh?  Pleeeeeeze?

– O Ceallaigh
Copyright © 2007 Felloffatruck Publications. All wrongs deplored.
All opinions are mine as a private citizen.

Quilly is the pseudonym of Charlene L. Amsden, who lives on The Big Island in Hawaii. When she is not hanging out with Amoeba, she is likely teaching or sewing. Or she could be cooking, taking photographs, or even writing. But if she's not doing any of that, she's probably on Facebook or tinkering with her blog.


  1. I knew as soon as I started reading that the writing wasn’t Quilldancers’, not that it wasn’t good, just another style………I liked it but am waiting for more…….

  2. Caryl — I am very busy packing and seling right now. You’ll get more from me when my house is mucked out. I am considering throwing it all away ….

    Pauline — That was OC, you know? I am still in Vegas sorting stuff.

  3. It sounds like paradise is in as big a hurry as every where else. That’s sad.

    My puppy’s ritual takes a longtime to find the perfect spot.

  4. Hi Been a long time but not blogging a lot my friend.Hope you are well I have to read a lot here (catching up) So I will wish you well and go back to reading all that I have missed 🙂

  5. Nessa — paradise can’t really be paradise as long as there are people in it … :p

    Polona — it is all of that.

    Zingtrail — well, since I’m packing to move my blogging time is slim, so you shouldn’t have too much catching up to do!

    Dr. John — we are considering it. OC is uncertain of his welcome. I say, “Love me, love my man.”

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