Poop-dogs and other rites of spring

I don't know what the weather has been like in your neck of the woods, but it sure has been fine around here lately. (Yes, as a Canadian blog, it is once again time to discuss the weather as per the Canadian Blog TOS. Rules is rules.)

I am a summer kind of girl. I love the heat, I even love the humidity. Maybe it's a Leo thing. I love spring, too - the little flowers peeking through the soil, and the way the trees seem to get that green fuzzy cloud around them just before the leaves burst open.

What I don't like is picking up the winter supply of dog poop. Yuck! I tried to be proactive this year. There were two good thaws in January and February, and I filled bags of brown snow then. Before the snow melted entirely, I was out there in March chipping away at brown and yellow ice. And yet, there were still mounds upon mounds by the time the last of the snow disappeared. Did I mention yuck? I don't know why our dog is a poop factory, but surely she has some sort of deficiency that makes her poop three times her body weight every week. That much poop is just not normal.

So I spent a spectacular sunny Saturday afternoon with shovel and garbage bag in hand. Since it was so lovely, I couldn't justify keeping Tristan in the house; however, I also couldn't let him run rampant through the biohazard that was the yard. So he stayed on the deck and 'helped', inasmuch as driving me to distraction with comments and questions is helping.

'Mommy, why does Katie poop?'

'Over there, Mommy! There's more over there.'

'Mommy, why doesn't Katie wear a diaper?'

'Mommy, what are you doing?'

'Look, over there, you missed some.'

'Mommy, where does poop go?'

'Mommy, why do you have to put the poop-dogs in the bag?'

Questions continue to rain down on me, until...

'Mommy, you're doing such a good job. Daddy will be so proud of how you made the yard pretty.'

He's a good kid. And I think we'll keep the dog, too. For now.