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The Joys of Dog Walking in the Neighborhood

The Joys of Dog Walking in the Neighborhood

The Joys of Dog Walking in the Neighborhood

When you're a dog-walker, you feel like the neighborhood is your show, a stage where we are all but actors.

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood
A beautiful day in the neighborhood
It's a beautiful day to walk the dog
A spectacular day to walk the dog
Won't you come along with me?

That eyesore across the street, that's the podiatrist, Ira Potashner's house. Ira doesn't mow his lawn and that's a violation of municipal Bylaw 6221, (letting weeds or grass grow higher than 15 cm).

Look at the city official parked in front of Ira's house writing up a ticket. That's gonna cost the foot doctor $200. He has to remove a lot of corns and calluses to recoup that loss. He won't be happy.

But I will.

Ira is not like his next-door neighbor, Carl Smiley, the best cobbler in town. Carl is always happy, always in a good mood. That's because he's living the dream: repairing shoes, rehabilitating soles and heels, breathing new life into weary loafers, obliterating scuffs and scratches. 

"Hey Dave! How's it going?" Carl says. "Didja watch the hockey game last night? Catch the winning goal?"

"Sure did, Carl!" I lie. I'm not a hockey fan, but it's Carl and I want to keep the conversation going. Happiness is contagious!

Carl the cobbler flashes me a big smile and it makes me feel good. 

I feel good
So good, so good
Walking the dog

"Drop by Thursday night, Dave. Me and the wife are makin' a barbecue, then watchin' the Boston game with our boys! And bring along your dog, DJ, my kids love him!"

"Reserve my favorite seat, buddy!" I say, already thinking of an excuse to cancel. I don't have the patience to sit through a hockey game, although I wish I did.

"I'll bring the beer," I catch myself saying. Why-o why-o did I do that? I don't like hockey or beer. But Carl is such a great guy who

Makes me feel good
So good, so good
When I walk the dog

Let's continue our dog walk, boys and girls.

Hey! There's Angie's house and she's in her bikini tanning on her front lawn.

Angie was once the third runner-up in the Miss Columbia beauty pageant. I bring her a cup of sugar every time she runs out - which is often. I'm a good neighbor. But don't tell my wife, boys and girls, it's our secret!

"Cutie! My boyfriend!" Angie cries as she leaps from her lounge chair and scampers to greet us, jiggling in all her glory. "You handsome devil, you!"

"Oh thanks, Angie," I say, stroking my bald pate like I'm Bruce Willis.

"Not you, silly Dave. I mean DJ!"

Scantily clad Angie scoops DJ off the ground and hugs him hard. I think he likes Angie's bikini hugs.

"Ahhh...yeah, I was just joking," NOT - I lie again.

I like former Miss Colombia beauty pageant contestants, but I don't like it so much when they think my dog is cuter than me. Get it, boys and girls? I'm jealous of my dog and that's sad.

"Dave, the toilet is blocked!" my wife bellows from across the street. "Come quick, before...."

I jerk on DJ's leash and dash home. I'm afraid of my wife and I have to unblock the toilet.

And that's sad too.

At least I've got my dog, always gotta walk him, so there's always

Tomorrow, tomorrow!
I'll walk him tomorrow!
Happiness is always
A dog walk