The temperature’s been soaring this week, but the dogs still need their walks. We travel the 9 blocks from my house to downtown, the destination being a artisan well located along the riverfront where the boys can get a drink and cool off. Along the way, I get comments of all sorts. I guess it’s not everyday you see a girl walking 150 lbs. of dog. Unless you live in my neighborhood. Then you are treated to the Bad Mutha Fudruckin’ Parade 7 days a week.
Some people tell me I’ve got beautiful dogs. I like these people. Some people remark that I’ve got some really well trained dogs. I feel bad for these people. I mean the boys do walk politely on a leash and sit at crosswalks, but that’s pretty basic obedience. I get lots of offers to breed the dogs, or requests for puppies, but since they are both male and fixed that’s usually a short conversation. I try to avoid those people.
Lots of people ask me if they bite. I used to laugh and say no, but now I tell people they only bite on command. Then I laugh. I was sitting outside of a coffee shop with the dogs one day, and a guy asked my favorite question. “No,” I said, “they don’t bite.” The boys were laying on the sidewalk under the table, quietly watching the pedestrian traffic.
“They look like biters,” the man said and walked away. You look like a child molester and your breath stinks, I thought. But I didn’t say it, because I didn’t think the mother of the little girl petting Dexter would have appreciated a child molester joke. His breath did really smell like he’d been eating a shit sandwich, though. On second thought, maybe the boys would have bit him. They enjoy a nice turd now and then, and they don’t like to share with assholes.
The point of this post was not to wax poetic about the joys of shit sandwiches, however, but to share this picture of Dexter cooling off in the aforementioned well.