Aren't You a Little Short to be a Dog-Walker?

Dear Reader,

Well, it is official. As of this morning, I am officially a dog-walker.

No, I am not kidding. I am telling myself it is research for a book. A children's book. A very sad, scary children's book about what happens to you when you grow up. And when it is over, and I am published and acclaimed and brilliantly dressed in clothing made from the hairs of said children, we will drink VSOP cognac and smoke cigars and laugh at how this little bump in the road sparked me to massive fame and fortune. International renown. A statue. Maybe my own star.

Or, maybe I will just walk some dogs, and then I will stop walking dogs, and then I will repeat until I find something different. Either way.

The interview went well. It was early, some ungodly hour like 9 AM, and I arrived 10-minutes early, which was good. Unlike me, but good. Can something be unlike yourself? Aren't you always, technically, yourself? I digress. The interview questions were particularly entertaining. Gone was the Queen's erudite precision, replaced by sweeping, soul-searching questions that would better fit the end of a James Lipton interview than a job walking dogs.

A sample, for your enjoyment:

How would your friends describe you?
What is your biggest flaw?
What adjectives would you use to describe yourself?
How long can I count on having you?
Are you opposed to handling feces, urine, saliva, or other canine excretions?
Do you own a cell phone?

Okay, that last one was pretty easy, but the rest of them, I mean... dammit, man, my BIGGEST flaw? The biggest one? I am a big ideas person, not a details person. I conceive of my flaws in colors and shapes. Animal noises. I can't get any more specific than that.

...

To my delight I uttered something about "talking too much," my mind still reliving those torturous four minutes from Monday. I thought later, "Well, I could have said my self-doubt," but I was glad I hadn't. I had obviously shown the interviewer (actually a charming, attractive 30-something woman who I came to like very quickly) my proclivity for verbosity (which to me always sounded like some kind of cleaning solution... "Tough stain got you down? Try Verbosity!"), so at the very least I came across as sincere. Which I was. And honest. I told her that I would leave for school or if I got a full-time job with benefits. I think she appreciated my directness.

So, that's that. I start Thursday. I work from 10 AM - 4 PM and make about $50/day. Some pups just need let out and fed. Others get a whole 30-minute walk around town. The dog part of it actually has me kind of excited. I really like dogs a lot, a fact I forced myself to forget after we got rid of my old dog, Kaiser, when we moved to Mt. Lebanon. Kaiser der Hunt von Spitznagel... that's German for "unnecessary childhood trauma." He got hit by a car and bit through my father's hand and my parents told me there were laws in Mt. Lebanon against barking dogs (Kaiser used to howl with the fire engines. I think it was his way of being helpful.) So now I get to take out all my dog-deprived emotions and fill those little pockets of sadness with little baggies of shit. I'll keep you posted.

How are you, by the way? I promise this is all leading somewhere. I have no clue where. I'm just the daydreaming dog-walker, drift drift drifting upwind...

-m