Puppy love
Day 1: Three puppies sheltering under the stairwell at the enterance to my building. They are all white, but one has a rakish black patch on the right eye. They are all very cute and I am in love with little Blackie.
Day 2: The puppies tentatively wag their tails as I gingerly side step small piles of poo. It's time for my 100 metre dash to the bus stop, so I can't stop to fondle their ears (besides, they are dirty). But I am still in love.
Day 3: The stairwell has been barricaded, the landing has been washed and there are white pools of phenoile all over the place. It's not raining and there's no sign of the pups. I miss them, but not too much.
Day 4: The rain brought them back, and they are parked in front of the barricade. The poo is back too and the place is a mess. I can take only so much cuteness.
Day 5: The pups are gone, but the poo hasn't.
Day 6: The pups are now poo-ing on the landings too!
Day 7: And one pooed on the landing to my floor...right next to the front wheel of my bicycle. I mutter curses as I step over puddles of liquid on the stairs (rain water I hope, though the place stinks). I can feel the love waning even more.
Then I meet Blackie on the ground floor and get a happy wag of the tail. Blackie follows me to the entrance, and wags good bye. Sigh. What's a little poo in the way of true love?
Day 2: The puppies tentatively wag their tails as I gingerly side step small piles of poo. It's time for my 100 metre dash to the bus stop, so I can't stop to fondle their ears (besides, they are dirty). But I am still in love.
Day 3: The stairwell has been barricaded, the landing has been washed and there are white pools of phenoile all over the place. It's not raining and there's no sign of the pups. I miss them, but not too much.
Day 4: The rain brought them back, and they are parked in front of the barricade. The poo is back too and the place is a mess. I can take only so much cuteness.
Day 5: The pups are gone, but the poo hasn't.
Day 6: The pups are now poo-ing on the landings too!
Day 7: And one pooed on the landing to my floor...right next to the front wheel of my bicycle. I mutter curses as I step over puddles of liquid on the stairs (rain water I hope, though the place stinks). I can feel the love waning even more.
Then I meet Blackie on the ground floor and get a happy wag of the tail. Blackie follows me to the entrance, and wags good bye. Sigh. What's a little poo in the way of true love?