About two weeks ago, fences started popping up around the area we normally take Molly and Dubby to, ummm, take care of their morning business. Let me be clear: the “area” is actually a parking lot and from what I can tell, it is for a small pre-school about 50 yards away. Parking in Japan is always at a premium, much less something that isn’t paved over. These are American (pronounced ‘Merica!) dogs. They don’t pee and/or poop on concrete. At a bare minimum, they need some sort of dirt and/or earth. And I say good for them. You don’t poop where you… walk? Case in point, Dubby used to take off out of the house when he REALLY had to go and go the five feet to the planter that surrounds the driveway, and he would happily pee there. Jaime is not a big fan of this even if I am. Seriously. It is just SO close. Okay, I am getting off track. The parking lot is basically a dirt lot. In the United States, it would fit about four cars with its unusual shape. But in Japan, they routinely squeeze about 10 cars at a time. How do they accomplish this where Americans could not? Let’s say four Americans parked there. Well, then six Japanese people would then block in the first four cars, and probably the next four Japanese cars. Meaning eight folks are waiting for the two jackasses that blocked all of them in to leave. And even when those two guys leave, the Americans would still have to wait for the OTHER four Japanese people to leave. They drive in a very similar manner, but we will get to that later. I explain this off everyday as “Hey, its part of the culture.”
Okay, dirt parking lot. There is some gravel here and there. Behind the parking lot is probably the only other piece of non-paved land in a 10 mile radius, and it actually has a lot of pretty trees… and grass… and a little walking trail. And when those fences I spoke of earlier started popping up, signs appeared on them about a week later. These signs read something unintelligible to me (they are in Kanji, but I did understand the symbol for car. ‘Merica!) and some Engrish directly underneath: Private land. Your dogs are not welcome to do their morning business here. Or something like that. Now, the sign is only on the part of the fence that leads directly to the little walking path. So in our mind, it is clearly meant for the nice, green part of the area. Not the unpaved parking lot. Let me also be clear that we ALWAYS clean up after our pets. At night, I wear a headlamp so I can make sure I pick up every piece of poop. We are good Americans (‘Merica!).
It was all perfectly clear until Jaime was about to let Dubby and Molly poop and some angry Japanese man ran up to her, crossing his arms, and yelling at her in some unintelligible language (which after careful consideration, I believe it was Japanese).
So clearly, there is no pooping in the parking lot. The search for the new, ummm, relief area has begun.
Dubby and Molly... they both want that ball.