As I lace up the worn, brown boots, little jingles fill my ears.  She knows what time it is, I think to myself.  Within seconds, Maci is waiting for me at our faded, front door.  Her black tail wags back and forth with anticipation as I approach her.  I grab her purple retractable leash from the shelf and try to fasten it as she wiggles around with excitement.  It’s her favorite time of the day, besides meal time of course.  The click of the leash connecting to her collar causes her soft black Labrador ears to perk up and her body to freeze.  I open the door, and she flies out dragging me behind her. 

“Maci, sit!” I say in-between gasping for air, causing her to immediately sit down and gaze up at me with her dark brown, innocent eyes wondering what she has done wrong.  My anger melts away, and we continue to the little dirt path that we always take in the afternoon.
    The trees surround us as we walk, stretching up toward the bright sun.  The leaves have already begun to turn numerous shades of yellow, red, and orange, causing many of them to fall to the ground.  The birds sing to one another from the trees.  Eventually, the singing will come to an end as winter approaches, but will eventually return in the spring.  The bumpy, dirt path leads to the bundle of mailboxes that are located at the end of the road.   I take in the fresh air, which only nature can give me.  Our daily walk is my favorite part of the day, it’s a good way for me to relax and enjoy time away from our busy house.  Maci and I stop at the nearby open field. The Daisies, Bluebells, and Asters that fill the field in the spring with shades of white, blue and pink colors, have now withered away from the cold breeze.  I unclick the leash and give Maci freedom to explore, while I grab our mail. 

I watch her play as the cold wind turns my cheeks a dark shade of pink. She rolls around playfully in what is left of the flowers and eats the few green strands of grass that are still standing.  Suddenly, Maci darts toward the end of the field. Oh great, she has seen a poor chipmunk, I think to myself.  As I quickly make my way across the grassy terrain, I see that she is sniffing at something.

“Maci, come here now!” I try to sound serious.  She comes back to me, but as she steadily approaches I see that she has something in her mouth.  I wrestle it away from her sticky jaws.  I look at it for a brief second.

The wrinkled silver wrapper is licked clean and covered with teeth marks. The blue and dark red logo has been ripped in half.  It’s a Three Musketeers bar and it smells like disgusting, rotting garbage. Immediately, I drop the repulsive object, and stare at it.  How hard is it to throw something away in a trash can, I think bitterly to myself.  I pick it up with one of the blue doggie bags I have with me, and start back toward the house. Maci’s long tail wags back and forth.  There is a reason why you don’t see candy bars in a pet store.  I can already see how the rest of the night will go.  I will end up staying up all night as Maci’s stomach becomes her enemy and because someone needs to be there to take her outside.

As we continue down the path, I begin to notice the other pieces of trash on the side of the road.  Soda bottles, Bud Light cans, Lay’s potato chip wrappers, and cigarette butts hide under and around the colorful leaves waiting to be discovered by another hungry animal.  This is not the only area cluttered with trash; I see it everywhere on the side of the highway, by the ocean, and everywhere in between. 

We turn as the road meets our house. I throw the blue bag away in the trash can in our garage, where it belongs. I look down at Maci, her eyes are full of innocence. She doesn’t know any better and doesn’t understand why she can’t eat the wrappers when she already eats the grass and flowers. I bring her inside and unhook her leash.  She slowly makes her way to her soft doggie bed and lays down for a nap.  I grab a pair of Latex gloves and a black garbage bag as I make my way out the door.