Anybody who knows me will tell you, I am not a pet person.

Yes, that's right. I'm not a fan of pets. That includes cute little kittens, cuddly puppies and even giggly little clown fish - all fine and dandy I'm sure, just not for me. Perhaps it has something to do with my anal retentiveness. Who knows. A few days ago a co-worker called me in a panic. He and his wife were leaving town and their dog sitter had to cancel at the last minute. Now, said co-worker must be trained in some kind of Korean mind trickery because somehow I agreed to watch his dog for the week.

So last night I did what I thought any dog owner would do and took Sol (the dog) for a walk around our neighborhood. It seemed pleasant at first. But then I noticed Sol would stop at every single plant along the way, lift his leg and squirt a quick shot of doggie pee on it. It was like clockwork. By the time we made it down the block, every day lilly, every tulip, every patch of crab grass was drooping in shame.

Suddenly we approached a yard with three baby pine trees in the front year, about two feet tall. After Sol politely squirted the first two he approached the third. Curiously, he mounted the tree. Um, okay, I thought. I figured he had an itch on his hind end or something and was using the pine needles to scratch it. But then it hit me. His hind legs began to flex.

NO, SOL!

It was too late. He proudly dismounted the tree revealing a precisely carved tube o' excrement, of which he laid lovingly ON THE TREE. Yes, on the tree. Like a festive holiday ornament. Oh crud, I thought. I have to clean this up don't I? Just then I realized I had nothing of which to clean it up with.

So what did I do? I made a break for it.

Maybe nobody saw me. Maybe I'm off scott free. Or maybe I'll arrive home tonight to the scene of an angry mob of HOA members armed with paper bags of dog poo, cocked and ready to hurl in my general direction. Either way, I'm only into this doggy journey one day and I've already learned a valuable lesson. I'm still not a pet person.