She stepped gingerly, sniffing the ground as she got used to her new surroundings. Then, she let her stream flow.
It always takes Charlie a minute to find herself a new place to go to the bathroom, so the fact that she was starting her process less than 30 seconds after we arrived at Kaufman Park near our new digs. She ran around in a circle for a second before beginning the second phase.
"Hey! Hey! What the..." a voice began.
Out of the shadows came an older black man, maybe in his late 50s, looking exhausted, but frustrated with us.
"Why you got her doing her business on my floor?" he said, slurring his speech.
By "floor" he meant grass. In a public park.
But Charlie had already seen too much. She stopped in the middle of what she was doing and, tugging at the leash, beckoned me to a place far away from our first enemy in our new land.
I brought her out the next day to try again. She wouldn't go. It was like she was waiting for something.
Waiting for him. Waiting to be interrupted again.
We walked two blocks in the other direction toward the park between the St. Louis Schools building and my new job. There, she had no problems at all.
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