Dumped

If you've met Flanders, you know she's an independent kind of girl. Left on the streets around the age of 6 months, this tough pit bull made it into my life just before getting sentenced to death at the pound. After a three week period of feeding her from a distance, in one surrendering moment she was all over me like a long lost friend. We've been joined at the hip ever since, and that was 10 years ago.

One thing you get right away with Flanders is this: she completely does not appreciate you coming too close unless she knows you reaaaaaally well. Not a bad example for a girl. She's unbelievably adorable and unusual looking (to me), but not one of the pretty girls. Definitely not material for the Farmer's Market on a Saturday. ...Although that could be a fun and grand experiment one weekend--just to shake things up a bit there.

Flanders loves a good jaunt on the trails and doesn't make apologies about growling at passing rat terriers or whatever toy breed dares to tempt her. This is the part I don't like. Today some old guy picked up his little dog like Flanders was going to consume it for brunch. She's never actually done anything like that, but I felt pretty bad. Where is the dog whisperer when I need him?

Here's a not-so-savvy human error on my part. Walking along our favorite path at Emerson Point, we came upon the Bay Buddies, a group of youth volunteers doing their part and more to keep the bay clean. Being overseen by a friend of mine from the Estuary Program, they were quietly planting native plants.

Stopping to chat with her, what does Flanders do but take an enormous dump right in front of them. And where's my bag? Er, um, what bag? I was very busted. Bad, bad Gropius! Perhaps this made me look much worse than the dog. What a pair. But you have to give it to Flanders, capitalizing on choice moments is one of her specialties.