To set the scene:
One human. Three dogs (one of whom is 18-years-old, deaf and GENERALLY my shadow). Two leashes. Three bags of poo in-hand.
Meet:
A three-course meal for five (pasta with marinara sauce, mashed potatoes, and meatloaf) that is dumped in shin-high snow in the woods at the cul-de-sac at the far end of our walk.
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