I was walking the dogs the other night and it was blowing stink out of the northeast and raining horizontal and I was squinting all sissy like and pulling on the boy’s leashes hoping against all hopes to get the walk done.
I just wanted a hot shower and a cocktail.
So Cutter stopped to pee AGAIN and do his stupid pee-pee dance AGAIN and I jerked on his leash ’cause I was like, c’mon dude, I mean really?
And Cutter said, You’re a dick.
And Tug panted, Yeah, you’re a dick.
Excuse me?? I stopped in the howling wind and rain and stared at them and they looked at me, eyes questioning and tails wagging wonderingly.
So I kept going, yanking them along and leaning into the stormy fun we call spring around here.
And Cutter said, Hey! That hurts shithead!
And Tug said, Yeah, shithead. And shook his coat free of the rain.
This time I stopped and knelt in the road. Are you guys TALKING to me? I said.
They sat in the pouring rain looking at me, their ears flattened back and their tails gently swishing the rainwater in the street. And then Cutter said, Yes. Tug just grunted and yawned and grinned, panting.
I stared at them, rain running off me, wondering WTF was going on. Listen guys, I said, I just want to get this walk over and get the fuck back home, OK?
So I stood back up and kept going, dragging them behind me.
Don’t be such a sissy Cutter said.
And Tug chimed in, yeah sissy.
I’m not a sissy, I said through clenched teeth, I just want to get this done and move on with my life. Can’t you guys just poop, already?
Cutter trotted ahead of me and cocked his head to one side so he could see me and said, dude, you gotta stop wishing your life away. Yeah, Tug said, muscling past me and straining to lick something in the grass, the something suddenly catching Cutter’s interest as well.
I pulled them away from whatever disgusting horribleness it probably was and we kept going.
Cutter sidled up next to me and said, Listen dude, we dogs know all about this shit. Our lives are shorter and we live them faster. Did you know every human year is seven dog years? We blink and pppfffft, it’s over- that’s why we can’t let shit bother us. Our lives are waaaay too short to sweat the small stuff. Are you listening? Yeah, listening?, Tug grunted and stopped abruptly to poop.
Yesssss, I said, I’m listening. But I’m also cold, and wet, and tired, and over it, alright? I pulled a soggy plastic bag out of my pocket and bent to pick up Tug’s poop and of course my finger poked through.
SHIT! FUCK! I yelled, screaming at the racing clouds.
See, that’s what I mean, Cutter said, curling around me and wrapping his leash around my knees. You really gotta stop getting so upset about stuff and just learn to enjoy the little time we have. So it’s shitty weather? BFD. Stuff could be worse, right? At least you can walk. Relax dude. Enjoy. Yeah, relax dude, Tug said shaking out his coat again, his head bouncing off my thigh.
So I stood there in the pouring rain and thought for a long time while my boys looked up at me wondering expectantly.
OK, OK, I get it, I finally said. NOW can we go home?
Sure, Cutter said, but first I just gotta check out that bush over there. It smells absolutely delicious.
Yeah, Tug said, straining.
Whatever, I said.
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