My giant dog Morty perching like a delicate bird on the couch.
I would have written this story earlier, but I was getting over the embarrassment. Yes, this coming from the girl who embarrasses rarely. It's got to be good then, right?
A few days ago, I took Morty for his usual morning walk.
I guess I should preface this by reminding you lovely readers that Morty is a strong dog. He's a bulldog; close to the ground, nearly all muscle, and very determined. To walk him, I wrap his leash around my arms few times, and then usually around my waist as well. This is the only thing that ensures I can keep up with him when he decides to chase a bunny, or a skateboard, God forbid.
So. I leave the apartment and start Morty's walk. He chooses a place to crap - the neighbour's lawn - and begins his business. When he's all done, I secure his leash around my arm, and lean in the scoop up the mess.
This leaves me in the precarious position of not being completely balanced on my feet for a moment or two. I'm scooping, bending over, and not seeing much of what's going on behind me. Morty is sitting beside me, overseeing the operation.
I guess at this point, someone walks past me on the sidewalk on their way to work. Instead of sitting quietly while the person passes, Morty does a very typical bulldog thing and charges at the poor guy. Morty wanted to say hello. The guy probably saw his life flash before his eyes.
But I know none of this. I have a handful of dog poo that I am about to tip into the baggie, I am bent over, and I have Morty's leash wrapped several times around my arm.
You can just imagine.
I flip backwards. A surprised "ACK!" escapes my mouth. My brain does some quick math and realizes that the poo is not totally in the baggie yet. I hold the steaming pile of poo in my bagged hand up in the air as Morty drags me across the lawn towards the unsuspecting pedestrian.
Recap: I am being dragged, on my back, across someone's snowy lawn, with a pile of steaming crap in my hand.
Morty drags me about four metres before he finally reaches the guy. Then he sits and makes a cute doggy face... The one that means, "Pat my head! I am here to say hello! I came all this way!"
The guy looks very embarrassed. He hesitates for about a millisecond, pats Morty's head, and says, "Oh my God, are you okay??"
What can you do in a situation like that? Truth be told, I was mortified (no pun intended). I can talk about x-rated sexual pastimes to a total stranger without batting an eye, but don't drag me across someone's lawn while I'm holding my dog's crap.
So I laughed. I laughed and laughed and laughed. I probably sounded a bit hysterical.
"I'm fine! HAHAHAHAHA!" I said. "I guess that's the downfall of having a strong dog. HAHAHAHA. Didn't see that coming. HAHAHAHAHA. Fun times!"
Somehow I managed to get the poo in the bag without smearing it on myself. I am now covered head to toe in snow. My work clothes are totaled. Morty's leash is in some sort of death grip around my arm.
Morty offers up his bum to the guy for another pat, completely oblivious to the fact that I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
I reassure the dude again that I am okay, and he continues on his way, still visibly embarrassed.
I eventually stop laughing. I take Morty home, change my clothes, and sit on the bed for a while replaying the incident in my mind.
I make an executive decision never to pick up Morty's poo again. JUST KIDDING. But I'd be lying if I said it didn't cross my mind for just a second.