This evening, I returned from a relaxing, enjoyable Labor Day BBQ (thanks, Katie!) to my little, adorable puppy. Shouldering the guilt of leaving him alone for 75% of his waking hours today, I immediately threw his leash on and we headed out to stretch our legs.
I can't comment on the urban "greenery" value of other major, metropolitan cities, but I find that Chicago isn't half bad for pet owners. The majority of sidewalks have grass that is open to canine...er...activity. In my neighborhood, Doc prefers the intersection of Brompton and Pine Grove. Most appealing to him, I am sure, is the distance from my apartment -- just long enough to constitute a long walk. There are several plots of healthy grass strung end-to-end that just BEG to be pooped on. On our way to the Pine Grove "Poopin' Patch," Doc decided he wanted to run. Like myself, his body is built for comfort. Not speed. Still feeling responsible for leaving him alone all day, I decided (flip flops bedamned) to run along with him. He was clearly ecstatic.
And then, the unthinkable happened. Halfway around the block, we ran into this crazy wheelchair-bound lady with a ball of fur that, upon further inspection, turned out to be a dog. A stupid, shitty, useless fluffball of a dog named Mikey. I asked what his name was because that's what dog owners do to diffuse the tension of what really goes on when two dogs come upon one another for the first time -- sniff each other's buttholes.
So there I was, chatting with the crazy lady about her stupid dog (because I'm polite like that) and all of a sudden, Mikey was ass-raping Doc. Yes, I used the phrase ASS RAPING. Welcome to all pervy Googlers! I have never seen a dog hump so vigorously. Clearly this evening walk was simply a conjugal pardon from Governor Crazy Lady.
As I stepped in to separate this DOG MAN-WHORE from my precious Doc, I had to center myself over the unsolicited sexual frenzy. Mikey seemed a little off-kilter, so I took that as a hint that perhaps his energy was waning.
I was wrong.
As I pulled my poor, traumatized dog away, Mikey...(cough)...released ALL. OVER. MY. FOOT.
Wait...it gets worse. I still had to walk half a block to get home. With dog semen running down my leg. Try explaining that to ANYONE WITH EYEBALLS that walked past us, wondering why my left shin and instep were glistening in the moonlight.
Fortunately, all's well that ends well. My leg is now clean, and the dog is not traumatized or physically injured. Needless to say, we won't be taking that route anymore.
I can't comment on the urban "greenery" value of other major, metropolitan cities, but I find that Chicago isn't half bad for pet owners. The majority of sidewalks have grass that is open to canine...er...activity. In my neighborhood, Doc prefers the intersection of Brompton and Pine Grove. Most appealing to him, I am sure, is the distance from my apartment -- just long enough to constitute a long walk. There are several plots of healthy grass strung end-to-end that just BEG to be pooped on. On our way to the Pine Grove "Poopin' Patch," Doc decided he wanted to run. Like myself, his body is built for comfort. Not speed. Still feeling responsible for leaving him alone all day, I decided (flip flops bedamned) to run along with him. He was clearly ecstatic.
And then, the unthinkable happened. Halfway around the block, we ran into this crazy wheelchair-bound lady with a ball of fur that, upon further inspection, turned out to be a dog. A stupid, shitty, useless fluffball of a dog named Mikey. I asked what his name was because that's what dog owners do to diffuse the tension of what really goes on when two dogs come upon one another for the first time -- sniff each other's buttholes.
So there I was, chatting with the crazy lady about her stupid dog (because I'm polite like that) and all of a sudden, Mikey was ass-raping Doc. Yes, I used the phrase ASS RAPING. Welcome to all pervy Googlers! I have never seen a dog hump so vigorously. Clearly this evening walk was simply a conjugal pardon from Governor Crazy Lady.
As I stepped in to separate this DOG MAN-WHORE from my precious Doc, I had to center myself over the unsolicited sexual frenzy. Mikey seemed a little off-kilter, so I took that as a hint that perhaps his energy was waning.
I was wrong.
As I pulled my poor, traumatized dog away, Mikey...(cough)...released ALL. OVER. MY. FOOT.
Wait...it gets worse. I still had to walk half a block to get home. With dog semen running down my leg. Try explaining that to ANYONE WITH EYEBALLS that walked past us, wondering why my left shin and instep were glistening in the moonlight.
Fortunately, all's well that ends well. My leg is now clean, and the dog is not traumatized or physically injured. Needless to say, we won't be taking that route anymore.
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