Dogwalkers On Walks Having Talks

A well-known 'secret' about professional pet sitters is that we have full-on, in-depth conversations with the pets we take care of. I’m not talking about the casual, “Who’s a good boy?” or “Did you miss me?” No, I mean real conversations — the kind that veer into existential therapy sessions. And of course there's the occasional full Broadway production of made-up songs and dances we do for your fuzzy babies.

Some mornings, a dog and I might tackle big meaningful questions: What is the meaning of life? Why do humans put clothes on dogs? Is squirrel-chasing a primal reaction or a random act of violence? Other times, our chats are far more…biological. I’ll offer heartfelt congratulations for a truly impressive poo. I’ll reassure them that a quick pee is fine if it’s raining. I’ll praise their aim like they just won Olympic gold in Urine Stream Targeting.

Here’s the problem: I never want to be caught having these conversations. It’s not that I’m ashamed of the pets, they’re wonderful. I’m just not ready for a human being to overhear me saying, “That was a USDA Grade A poopie, buddy! You should be proud!”

And yet… it happens.

There’s nothing quite like realizing a neighbor has been standing across the street while you’ve been saying, “Ooo lookit that squirrel! You see that squirrel Fido?! Bettah get outta here Mr. Squirrel! Ain't no nuts down here!"

The embarrassment is immediate. All I can do is smile and keep walking. No need to pretend I'm practicing for an improv class I’m not actually in.

But I’ll keep having these conversations. Because pets don’t just hear us; they listen. They don’t roll their eyes when you overshare. They don’t tell you to stop talking about bodily functions. And in their own way, they answer back.

So if you ever catch me having a deep, meaningful heart-to-heart with your dog, just know this: we’re not crazy. We’re just very, very close friends.

POOP HOOPS!

Walking dogs every day is a dream job! But like any routine, sometimes it starts to feel like I’m Bill Murray living in my own personal version of Groundhog Day. Or rather Ground-Dog Day in this case. Same dogs. Same streets. Same squirrels always starting some mess they cain’t finish. I wave to the same neighbors at the same time every morning because my version of Groundhog Day has a limited Extras budget!

After a while, the daily rhythm becomes white noise and that’s when I like to spice things up. To do that I play POOP HOOPS - my personal street sport. After scooping a poop, if there’s an open trash bin in sight, I challenge myself to see how far away I can toss the bag and still make it in. It’s part sport + part sanitation service. My average is decent - think Junior Varsity level; so a call from the WNBA is out of the question.

It’s not all glory either. It takes guts. Guts to trudge over with the dog(s) in tow in a mutual walk of shame when I miss. Guts to grab the poop bag from behind the trash bin that’s landed on whatever ghastly objects happen to be back there. Guts to hold our heads up and move on, hoping no one else witnessed our agony of defeat.

It’s not glamorous, but it keeps things interesting. Because when you're doing the same loop with the same leash and the same four-legged clients, a little creative competition with oneself goes a long way. Next up: Squirrel Baiting! I’m kidding. Just seeing who's actually reading this stuff.