
While Shea sniffed and peed on things, I jogged in place. When this didn't work, I would jump up and down. I shrunk my neck into collar of my jacket as far as I could. And, I held my poor little hands tightly inside my sleeves while still grasping Shea's leash. They were so cold I was near positive they were bleeding. This would be the second day in a row they were bleeding. For different reasons mind you, temps of 70 degrees don't make your hands bleed, but any time your hands bleed it is never a good thing!
Then, it happened. My savior. Exactly what I needed came in the form of Shea's poop. If you have ever picked up a pile of poop before, you surely know that it is steaming hot. I never thought I'd be so happy to pick up Shea's poop. After my boy got busy, I let the steam inside the bag warm my hands as we happily ran home. If only it smelled better. Then I'd be selling it by the bagful as hand warmers.
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