Brusha, Brusha, Brusha….*

Something moved at the side of the path, ever so slightly, but enough to snag my attention. It took awhile to find what I was looking at, but by the time I got my camera out, the little face popped back down into the ground. Waiting around did no good. Here I was, paused camera to eye, standing stock still by an immense pile of fresh dog poop as joggers and strollers and bike riders passed me by, perhaps wondering what I found so interesting. I made sure I could find the spot on my way back, and there he was again. This time I was ready.


* and who remembers this jingle? 

(You've gotta be a certain age to have used new Ipana toothpaste!  as sung by Bucky the Beaver!)