New Castle News
NEW CASTLE —
I have a very important role in life.
Someone has to be in charge of letting the dog out, and I seem to be the chosen one.
Since I am not a dog, it is hard for me to understand the way he goes about his business.
If I had to tinkle bad enough to bark at my owner, when he let me out I would relieve myself as soon as I hit the turf.
Not so with my dog Tyler.
The other day as I was watching, I could not believe how long it took him to locate the perfect spot.
Then it entered my mind — what if he never finds it?
Will he just come back in?
Does he think something will change in the back yard that will make it more suitable for his next visit?
I've seen horses lose their load in the middle of a parade.
Cows can be standing in a field eating, when all of a sudden they let it fly.
Why are dogs so particular?
Patience is not my thing.
Before he started going out on his own, there were times when I almost hung him from his leash.
When he would finally lift his leg and then change his mind, it's a wonder he is still alive today.
If I took as long as he does to find a suitable bathroom, I would need to wear Depends.
Another thing, when he is doing No. 2, why does his butt always face me?
Does he think I enjoy the view?
I must be getting old, because this stuff never bothered me before.
He's just a little dog. How can he possibly fill up a lawn with yard-to-yard doggie doo-doo.
This is my last, and I mean the very last, dog that I will own.
I keep telling him I won't cry at his funeral, but that's probably not the truth.
I was walking through a yard lately with my friend, who recently had his dog put to sleep.
He looked down and spotted some leftover doo-doo.
To him, it was the Lincoln Memorial.
I guess I better go get the pooper scooper out because I have a lot of memorials waiting for me.