Turds.

04_05_09-89

On the weekends we like to walk the beach and let the boys run. Yesterday evening when we went up they were tuggin’ in the wrong direction like boats in a storm and sure enough, when I released them they bolted. Gone down the beach until the onliest thing we could see was matching yellow Lab tails twitching on the horizon.

Which just makes me crazy. 

Cutter and Tug don’t have to do anything but laze around on the furniture and scarf up treats. I walk them twice a a day, every day, for a mile. On the weekends they get the run of the beach. They don’t have to clean up after themselves. They don’t have to help with chores. They don’t have to mow the lawn or do  long division.

All they have to do is come when then they’re ‘effin CALLED. That’s it. That’s all. Just stop what they’re doin’ and race in our direction when we call them. I don’t think it’s too much to ask and it makes me a crazy turd when they run like that. 

Which led to Miss Carol being a turd, which led to all of us being turds.

Turds by the sea.

Advertisements

3 responses to “Turds.

  1. I got hit with the poop finger today. Does that make you feel better?

  2. Ha. My cats are the same way. Not that I let them run the beaches or anything (I’m not sure they’d come back), but can’t they just stay off the freaking sofas??? They get to lay wherever they want! My lap, the sofas in the den, the bed, etc… they only get up on the “nice” sofas after we go to sleep. Then they jump down when they hear us coming. Obviously they know they’re not supposed to be there. Turds.

    By the way, what the heck is a “poop finger?”

  3. I was wondering what a poop finger is, too.

    I have no other thoughtful comment except that your post cracked me up. You have lucky dogs, too.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s