BBG v. The Homeless Man

She stepped gingerly, sniffing the ground as she got to her usual spot, then she let her stream flow. It always takes BBG a minute to find her spot to go to the bathroom, so the fact that she was starting her process less than 30 seconds after we arrived at the Magnolia trees. She ran around in a circle for a second before beginning the second phase.

“Hey! Hey! What the…” a voice began. Out of the shadows came an older man, maybe in his late 60s from the wall of the carriage house looking exhausted, but frustrated with us. “Why you got her doing her business on my floor?” he said, slurring his speech. By “floor” he meant pine straw under the trees.

But BBG had already seen too much. She stopped in the middle of what she was doing and, tugging at the leash, beckoned me to a place far away from our her spot the last 9 years. I brought her out this morning and she wouldn’t go. It was like she was waiting for something. Waiting for him. Waiting to be interrupted again. So we walked two blocks up the street and in front of an aging Victorian with a Trump sign in the front window she had no problems at all with her “second phase”.





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