Winner Winner Chicken Dinner

Every day, my boyfriend and I take his parent’s dog out of a walk. She’s a fickle German Shepard who minds her master, and nobody else. She’ll mosey along and suddenly double-back to check some pee mail left by the neighborhood dogs, nearly ripping my arm out of its socket in the process

Yesterday started out no different. I held the dog close, she drifted away, bolted backwards, and then was dragged back to the heeling position.

Halfway through this particular walk, she began weaving. She cut in front of me, then my boyfriend. She stopped to sit, then walked diagonally towards the middle of the road. A few months ago, she had most of her teeth removed. We blamed the erratic behavior on the anesthesia and presumed brain damage.

After cutting me off and causing me to trip for the dozenth time, my boyfriend grabbed the leash and told her to heel. And, at that moment, we suddenly understood why the dog had been acting strangely. As my boyfriend shouted “heel,” the dog released a epic stream of diarrhea and, before I realized what was happening, she had doubled back, plopped down and then wiped her filthy behind on my shoe. With no grass in sight, she had been on the lookout for a soft surface on which to clean up. Apparently, that would be me.

Just the other day, I wrote about picking apart life’s unpleasantries to uncover the good. As a child, I enjoyed picking apart owl pellets to discover the bones of mice and tufts of fur. While I had no intention of picking through the stinking mess on the asphalt (eww), I was reminded to make light of the situation. So here I am laughing and inviting you to join in the comedy.

A brain-damaged dog with selective hearing and no teeth eagerly scarfed down two cans of a new dog food, gleefully joined us on for an evening walk, and then felt the churn as her belly evacuated the meal. Without hesitation, she stopped, dropped and dragged. And, after several soapy soaks, my sneaker still smells like rancid Blue Buffalo chicken dinner.