Right now Ollie is driving me nuts, wanting out into the back garden. There is a man performing some repairs to our privacy fence and the beast is most concerned. Ollie has paced back and forth between the two sets of french doors leading out onto the back patio, whimpering and whining. So I took him outside for a look-see at Paul, the guy who serves as Mr Fix It for the property management company. I don't know Paul as well as I know Nick, the pest service guy, but I'm kinda glad we haven't met more often over house troubles.
Even after going out to see Paul for some petting, Ollie is still convinced he might be out in the back garden for nefarious purposes. Maybe he's after the ball Ollie was playing with yesterday and left out on the patio. Maybe he's gonna pick up all of the sticks and twigs out back so that Ollie won't have anything handy to snatch up in his mouth to gnaw on before I pry it out of his jaws. Or maybe he's out there to scoop the poop. Oh wait - that's just my own personal dream.
Lord help us if he removed the Ollie turds because then Ollie couldn't complete his little OCD pick-a-spot-to-poop ritual. Every time I take Ollie outside for a BM after his meals, he does the exact same thing. He immediately trots over to the poop place, Ollie's own restroom area as evidenced by the yellowed grass and piles of doo doo that have been deposited since my last poop scooping. That's when the routine begins. Ollie has to approach every pile of poop and give it a good whiff. I can imagine the following running commentary in his head...
Let's see now, is that my poop? (sniff, sniff) Yep, that's mine alright. What about this one? (sniff, sniff) Oh yeah, that must be the fresh pile from this morning. And over here. (sniff, sniff) Wow, did I do that? That definitely gets a 9.5 on the stinkometer. And (sniff, sniff) hey, what's this crap? Has that damned fox been using my facilities again? I think I may need to roll in this.