A Fool and his Words are Soon Parted

The Blizzard, the Dog, and the Trash Can March 8, 2008

I am a member of a people group known as Not a Morning Person ™. I do not think clearly when I first wake up. I know this is not a phenomenon that is unique to me.

I also own a dog. There are days that I would like to cause the dog physical harm. This is one of those days.

I should probably explain.

The Blizzard
It all begins with snow. Not just a little snow, but a lot of snow. As of this writing, it’s approximately 8″ of snow. [Note: As of 11:30AM EST, it was up to 13″ of snow.]

I live in Kentucky. In early March, we generally do not get a lot of snow.

The Dog
I also own a dog. Hmm… Perhaps I should rephrase.

There is a dog that lives here, that I have somehow managed to not send to that “Great Kennel in the Sky ™.” The fact that he lives to this day is an indication of the ability of children to guilt their parents into not harming small animals.

The dog, with amazing regularity, wants to go outside at approximately 6:45. This morning was no exception.

The Shoes
Knowing that there was a significant amount of snow on the ground, my second task (the first being finding something warm to put on my body that was not too complex to figure out in the daze of the early morning) was to find something for my feet. I found these.

Now, I should state clearly that these are not shoes that I have purchased, or would have even asked for as a gift. These are some that I inherited from my father. He didn’t exactly hand them down to me, but he was no longer alive, I needed some house shoes, I wasn’t willing to spend money on shoes that I would never wear in public and… well… you get the idea. I now have a pair of house shoes.

I am well aware that they look ridiculous. I tell my sons that this simply adds to the “Tim mystique.” For some reason, that causes them to convulse in hysterics.

The Leash
Typically, we put the dog out on an extended contraption that is commonly called a “run.” (I suppose it’s called this because it allows the dog to run, but I haven’t done any significant research into the etymology of the term. Yes, I’m well aware of how annoying parenthetical phrases can be. [And I’m even more aware of how annoying it can be to nest them.] Get over it.) The “run” consists of a 75′ cord, affixed to two in-ground stakes, with a 15′ tie-out attached in such manner to allow the dog approximately 105′ of elliptically shaped fun in the back yard. (Please don’t ask more questions about the dog run Billy, it’s not that pertinent to the story.)

So now you’ll recall, if you’re following the story closely, that I am not thinking clearly, but am dressed and house-shoe equipped, and am about to take said dog out for his morning business. Somehow, in the process, I completely forgot that the dog’s run would be impossible to find, having been buried in several inches of snow. Now, a thinking person might say, “Tim, why not keep the end of the tie-out at the same general place all the time, so you can be sure to find it.”

This is when I would strike the thinking person soundly about the face for several minutes. I am not normally violent, but clear-thinking individuals should not be allowed to open their mouths around someone who is Not a Morning Person ™. I digress. (I should point out that in looking over my shoulder, my oldest son said, “This sounds like the Iditarod, only with a small black dog instead of a pack of white dogs, and there’s no real race, but just a number one and maybe a number two.” My son is a morning person. The fact that he still lives is a testament to the fact that his football conditioning has been quite effective, and I am a forgiving person.)

Regardless of where the dog’s tie-out should be located, it was now buried beneath a ridiculously heavy snowfall, and my left hand was almost frozen in a vain attempt to find the spot where my youngest son left it the last time he put the dog out. The dog did not appear to be too pleased with this turn of events either, as his legs are not particularly long.

I think you can figure out enough of the anatomy of our dog to understand his reluctance. Unfortunately, I didn’t notice this because of the extreme pain in the frozen hand. I returned to the house to find the dog’s leash.

The dog’s leash is a fairly normal one, approximately 3′ long. Unfortunately, the dog has (in the past) always enjoyed playing in the snow, so I wasn’t fond of the idea of bounding through drifts of snow with the dog, possibly slipping, falling, and landing in previously deposited reminders of dog ownership. I determined, in my half-awake state, to construct an extended leash.

At this point, I am still only marginally functional in terms of clear thinking, and am frantically searching through the garage for something I can use to extend the dog’s leash. By an even more unfortunate coincidence, all of the extension cords are in the back of our vehicle, which is at the top of the driveway. (There are rare moments of lucidity when I think ahead, and parking at the top of the drive was one of those times. Yes, my wife suggested this.)

What I finally found was a 50′ coil of 3-conductor, 12 gauge house wiring that had been sitting in the garage for several months, and was even less flexible than normal because of the temperature in the garage. This might work.

The Garbage Can
With great effort, I was able to tie a double knot in the electrical wire, fixing the dog’s leash firmly in place. (This is important because, in spite of a torn ACL, the dog has a history of finding unusual ways of getting loose and running away.) Proud of my short-term engineering, I ventured back out with approximately 53′ of bounding-in-the-snow slack in the leash.

The dog stopped at the garbage can, less than 10′ from the back door. He finished number one in the Idiot-rod (my oldest son’s description of this story), and promptly went right back inside.

I am Not a Morning Person ™.