We just recently moved into our new home. We were living in a motel, so we had a friend watching our pets, including our dog, Purdy. Yesterday we took our pets back and introduced them to their new home.

Soon enough, of course, our dog had to do her business. Like the beagle she is, she let us know this fact by barking in that special beagle yap: “Rort! Rort! Rort!” I decided that I would enjoy a pipe while I was out walking her, so I proceeded to fill a bowl, while the dog continued to bounce around, yapping (“Rort! Rort!”), and my wife giving me a dirty look and a “Are you taking her out today, or what?”

Finally, my bowl is adequately, if hastily, packed. I hook the dog to the leash, grab my matches and pipe nail, and head out the door. Outside, I hold the leash in one hand while Purdy tries her best to wrench my arm out of my socket. With my other two hands I light a match, and with my fourth hand I shield my pipe from the wind while lighting up. Of course, I don’t really have four hands, so a half a book of matches later, I have managed to get a charring light and a regular smoking light, while Purdy went into an apoplectic siezure trying to chase blowing leaves across the street (“Rort! Rort! Rort!”).

We live in a mobile home park now (save your ‘trailer trash’ comments for Jerry Springer) and the rule is that if your dog does her business on the ground, you have to pick it up. I realize that other people do this, especially in big cities and such where you can get a $10,000 fine for not scooping your dog’s doo-doo, but I’ve always viewed this as “one of those things that happens to other people”, like IRS audits, or airplane accidents. So I decided to get around this rule by taking my dog outside of the Park. Clever, eh?

The road that runs by the park is a narrow, winding country road with trees on both sides. Despite it being narrow and winding, cars drive along this road like it’s the Autobahn. It also doesn’t have a single streetlight, so, apart from the illumination provided by the houses in the nearby mobile home park, the road is pitch black. So, at 7:30 at night it is already dark. I walk Purdy up to the winding road, tugging her along to make sure she doesn’t do anything inside the park. Once their, I find that I can barely see.

Suddenly, there are headlights! Purdy, the hyperactive beagle who is still tugging on the leash in a heroic effort to snap the tendons in my shoulder starts moving toward the road. I pull her back and stumble off the road into the trees and brush as I am blinded by the high-beams of the oncoming vehicle. The car passes at a speed just below Mach 1, and the shock-wave hits me like a hurricane hitting Florida.

Slightly shaken, I puff on my pipe furiously, giving the leash a tug to make sure that Purdy is still attached and alive, and hurrys up with her business. Since I can barely see anything, I have to guess when she has finally gone, and then I make my way back to the park, evading two more subsonic vehicles as I go. By the time I am back to the house, I am more than halfway through my pipe. Normally at this point in my pipe smoking I am in a nice relaxed zone, but not today. I let Purdy back into the house, and I sit on the steps to finish my pipe bowl (no smoking in our house by orders of the Boss – my wife).

The night is a bit chilly and the steps are cold, but I sit and unwind, enjoying my pipe in the evening air. The stars are out and clearly visible, the crescent moon peeking through the autumn-denuded trees.

This is my new home. I decide that I like it.