Let us just say that it is a hectic morning. Perhaps a member of your family, who may be known as Laura's husband except he prefers to be left off of the internet and go anonymous so wouldn't want to be known as that, has to have surgery.
Hypothetically speaking, your dogs might be shit out of luck that day and have a long day at home with no fun. Being nice, you take the dogs down to the beach real early in the fog, before the hectic day begins. Oh. Did I just say the words shit out of luck? Why would I ever say something like that?
And this particular morning, being the way it is, will of course involve a dog who decides he should leap from a cliff down to a sea cave at highish tide. And human feces. And men's underpants. And socks. I mean, really. Gross. Just gross.
The story ends just fine. There were no stunt men needed in helicopters for dog rescues, the dog just had to climb. Unpositive words may have been shouted at a bad dog. Loudly. In a very, very mean, grouchy, asshole yelling voice. I mean, come on. There were stained, random underpants. And a sea cave.
Best part of the story, very successful surgery. The rest of the story, best left forgotten, just like those undergarments.
4 comments:
Glad the surgery went well. I hope he recovers quickly. I'm sure Gustavo got a nice bath on returning home.
:)
When I was yelling at him, I recalled I read somewhere that Susan Garrett requires you to sign a form when you take a class with her that says you will not say punishment mean things to your dog. I would have failed, had she been holding her class on a cliff where someone left a pile of shit and also got it all over their socks and panties and left it there for Gustavo. Dog training is hard.
I'm glad for successful surgery, that's always a good day in my book and hopefully a quick and not too painful recovery. I just wish I hadn't read this while I was eating breakfast but to be fair you did warn me.
Glad about the surgery.
I hit my dog recently in public in front of a dog friend. She didn't say anything. I was pissed off about having to run several hundred feet across a rough-terrained cow-shit infested field to retrieve my shit-covered dog who, having rolled in it, was now eating it, and ignoring repeated "Come" sorts of commands. So when I grabbed her shit-covered collar, I actually whapped her a few times with my palm while saying angry things. She kept chewing and didn't look at all concerned.
I'm sure that susan garrett would've had a fit about that, too. I mention it only because shit and dog abuse were involved to indicate that I empathize with your situation.
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