Dogs go berserk

Adventures in dog walking:

First we pass the school. I started getting up half an hour earlier and as a result I now am forced to stop every morning for the bus to unload. I tried just proceeding on my way one time, intending to slip myself in between debarking students unobtrusively, but the stern bus driver honked at me and pointed up to the flashing red lights. I didn't know they applied to pedestrians too. This has traditionally given the dogs the perfect opportunity to tangle themselves up with my legs and possibly trip me in front of everyone.

Next we pass the first and worst of the two berserk houses. These are where the dogs go berserk trying to get to the dog who lives there who is also going berserk trying to get to them. Norma is the more berserk of my two dogs, yanking at the leash and circling furiously and whining whining whining. Baxter makes the most noise. I am always especially gratified to be able to provide entertainment for the Hispanic construction workers on the next lot, who laugh hysterically and point and call out in Spanish as I go by. (The first time this happened I gave them the finger as I passed, not realizing until too late that this would hardly be the intimidating gesture I had hoped, coming, as it did, from someone with two bags of poop dangling from their other hand.)

At the next berserk house the dogs dart around me in opposite directions and I am afraid to stop to untangle lest the leashes be further cinched around my legs and cause me to fall over in front of the woman walking the beautiful and perfectly behaved husky-shepherd-looking-mix on the other side of the street.

My final reward today is coming home and having my glasses fog up completely due to the temperature change inside vs. outside, preventing me from seeing that the large water dish isn't exactly level and thereby causing the water to slosh over the side, flooding the counter, the floor, and my left arm up to the elbow. This, thank goodness, does not happen every day.