Friday, February 19, 2010

The Dog-Walk Fiasco (Part 1of 2)




I woke up to two paws on the side of my bed and my dog’s nose inches from my face, his whole head cocked inquisitively to the side. I didn’t bother looking for a clock to see what time it was as I innately knew it was just moments after sunrise. I knew this because the second the sun’s up, the dog’s up, and the second the dog’s up, everyone’s up. He recognized the slow process of me fully waking and his whole body started to shake from the effort of wagging his tail. Damn his cuteness! I couldn’t be grumpy at that. I decided then and there I would reward his loyalty with an early morning walk.

I slowly dressed myself and stumbled into the kitchen where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee struck my nostrils. It appeared that my roommate had brewed a full pot before leaving for work and there was just about a cup left for me. Awesome! As any caffeine junkie can tell you, work-free coffee is twice as good as coffee you have to brew yourself. I deigned this to be my reward for rewarding my mutt, my altruism and awesomeness being recognized by the coffee gods. I took this offering gratefully and added a healthy dose of vanilla creamer. This was starting out to be an awesome day.

If only I knew what lay ahead.

I downed my coffee in two quick gulps, leashed my mutt, and trotted out of the house in high spirits. My dog, Rookie, picked up on my good mood in that instinctive way that animals do and set a high-stepping fast jog for us. Jogging down the block, I did my best presidential-type wave to my neighbors as I passed them. They smiled and waved back enthusiastically. What's more wholesome & endearing than a 20-something guy taking his dog for a run?

Well yeah, a 20-something guy would be incredibly endearing, but this half-black 30-something was all these people were gonna get so they made the best of it.

Rookie and I loped through the neighborhood and across the intersection on our way to the dog park. All told, the dog park is one mile away from my house, making it 2 miles round trip. Doesn't sound so bad, right? Nothin to it, right?

Right. Usually.

But then it happened.

The second my Nike's hit the turf of the dog park and my pedometer read one mile exactly, it felt like the contents of my stomach were attempting a gravity-aided jailbreak through my colon. I came to a a grinding halt and clenched my buttcheeks with a pressure comparable to an industrial strength bear trap. I broke into a cold sweat and instantly began shaking worse than Michael J. Fox. This was bad.

There I stood at the edge of an open field with no port-a-potty, a leash connected to an eager dog in one hand and a plastic bag meant for his poop in the other. I was a mile away from the nearest bathroom and the potential colonic escapees were pounding at the gates.

How was I gonna get myself out of this one??

To be continued...

4 comments:

  1. We are all one race;the human race.
    You are biracial Ken.
    BTW,your stories are not innane.

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  2. Mom, no profound life lessons in the comments please. Keep it humorous or I'm going to put you back on dial-up.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Now,you are being innane. (ha,ha...)

    ReplyDelete