I spent ages this morning trying to decide on whether I should take the dog for a walk as the BBC told me it was going to start pissing down at any moment. After an hour of weighing out the pro’s and con’s of getting caught in said rain I decided I’d risk everything and go.
I put a jumper on, a coat and a beanie (which it later turned out i had absolutely NO need for as it was boiling and the sky was clear) and made my way down to town to take the bitch to a field by a big, nice, clean pond but made a brief stop-off on a rugby field.
I sat on a bench and made a fag and let the dog, who’s name is Daisy (I didn’t pick that name, by the way. I would have called her something cool, like ‘Lightning-Power Johnston’ or ‘9-11’), go for a run around, stretch her legs and all that jazz. I smoked up and threw a stick or two for her, which was pointless. She is a golden retriever that doesn’t retrieve. She isn’t even golden. She’s more of a blonde layabout. Bitch. Anyway, I threw a stick for her to run to and after about ten minutes of fucking about and she ran right past it and smelt the ground, then immediately started rolling about on the bit of floor she sniffed like a cat in a carrier bag. I walked up to her to rub her belly and ‘grrr’ at her or what have you and I noticed a large nugget of poo on her shoulder and thought ‘What the fuck, dog? What the fuck?’ I kicked her up with my foot, as I cannot kick with any other part of my body and she looked at me with a look as if to say ‘Look! Look, Miles! There was shit on the floor, but now there’s shit on the floor AND there’s shit me! Awesome, eh?!’ then span around and ran to ANOTHER bit of dog shit and rolled around in that, then chased a toddler. Anyone who may have looked over to the field would have seen a small girl running and crying with a shitty dog in hot pursuit, with me chasing the dog going ‘what the fuck, Daisy! Get here now you dirty bitch’ being followed by a middle aged woman shouting ‘It’s alright, its alright, she just doesn’t like big dogs’ with me shouting back at her ‘It’s not alright! She is covered in other dogs shit!’ with her then replying (in a much harsher tone than previously) ‘Get that bloody dog away from my daughter!’.
Daisy did eventually change course and make a run for a dirty pond full of ill-looking ducks and after a five or six minute game of cat and mouse between a grown man and a young dog all peace was restored and I began to make the way home to clean the fucker.
But! It didn’t end there! I was almost home. I had almost gotten her home with no more aggravation when she decided to go and roll about in a massive, muddy puddle on the field by my house. This, unfortunately, did NOT wash of the shit and replace it with just mud as I had hoped, but just add to the stinkingness of the whole charade.
The moral? Don’t take your dogs for walks. Neglect them. It’s far, far easier.