We can’t stop here! This is bat country…

Doppler is in love with a 8-week old yellow Labrador.

Pedophile.

Wait, is it considered pedophilia in the canine universe?  They are allowed far more leniency than we in other matters, such as public urination, nudity, and sexual intercourse…so I really don’t know if Doppler’s seduction of a pre-heat yellow lab is considered uncouth in the Canidae family.

Although…I live in downtown Seattle, and public urination is a common occurrence.  And it hits as close to home as the side of my apartment building, most often between the garbage dumpster and recycling bins, I’m sorry to say.  They’re amusingly nonchalant about the whole thing.  I’ve even had a couple of the pit-stop-passers-by nod their heads at me and bid good morning when I’ve come upon them mid-act while walking Doppler.  Who looks upon them, offended, as if to say, “Um.  Pardon me, kind sir. That’s my spot you’re violating, there…”

Doppler’s leg-hiking options are, however, about to be severely reduced.

Enter two very large, majestic maple trees in the front of my apartment building.

Or, very soon, it will be: there *were* two very large, majestic maple trees in front of my apartment building.

The city of Seattle has deemed them a safety hazard as apparently they have become diseased, defective, or otherwise afflicted with some sort of “rotted stump” condition, and will be cut to the quick post-haste.  And as such we will be denied the beautiful aesthetic contribution and lovely shade they provide to our domestic environment.  And Doppler denied a convenient place to relieve himself diurnally.  Of course, I had never before pondered the correlation between his choice of real estate and the pathology of the trees…

I feel like going all Virgin Suicides on them pre-process in protest not only for myself and my fellow residents but for the sake of my dog who cannot speak for himself.

Of course, knowing my lack of good fortune and propensity for clumsiness and related injuries, they would permit the trees to remain, and one lovely, unassuming morning, Doppler and I are engaging upon his daily constitutional and immediately following a great deal of grinding and crackling, our bodies become crushed and mangled under two tons of rotted maple whilst dozens of confused squirrels scamper about, grateful that they are more spry than we.

(I have to interject here:  Thanks to my goddamn iPhone, I keep expecting a period (.) to be automatically supplemented every time I double-tap the space bar.  I’m such a mindless drone.)

Voulez-voulez-vous arbor annihilation angst.

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