C'mon jump up

StukaFoxsays...

Good dog, Cujo! Also, you know that mutt drops a log the size of a baguette at least twice a day and it practically takes a snow shovel to fling it into the neighbor's yard.

I use to have a tragically retarded Cocker Spaniel (and, to note, there is no other variety of that breed) and it was like the Goose that Laid the Golden Egg, only with dogshit. At least three times a day, this golden-furred, floppy ear'd mongrel would scarf down a can of Alpo, a cup of kibble and whatever food was left lying on the table -- the same table the cat always got smacked for climbing on, but the dog ... ohhh, no! It's CUTE when the dog does it! -- then make a beeline to the back lawn where it'd crap Mt. Everest. I'd have to trudge out the the back yard, shovel in hand, while the guy next door shot me the stink-eye because he was tired of fishing dog turds out of his swimming pool every day during the summer. This task is odious enough, but it's a thousand times worse when you're stoned and it's a million degrees out and you'd much rather be floating on your waterbed listening to Dark Side of the Moon in headphones while blissful AC-cooled air wafts over your twice-weekly washed body and not fighting your way through a black fog of Horseflies to reach a 1:1 scale model of Mt. Doom made entirely of a too-quickly digested overpriced slurry of meat scraps and offal that the canners couldn't fob off on Mexico.

It might not have been as bad as all that, but in my hazy recollection, it was pretty darned close.

I'm not sure why I told you all this, to be perfectly honest, but I did. So there.

BSRsays...

There, there now. Get it all out. Just let it allllll out. Would you like a glass of water? Take a deep breath.

Now, doesn't that feel better?

StukaFoxsaid:

Good dog, Cujo! Also, you know that mutt drops a log the size of a baguette at least twice a day and it practically takes a snow shovel to fling it into the neighbor's yard.

I use to have a tragically retarded Cocker Spaniel (and, to note, there is no other variety of that breed) and it was like the Goose that Laid the Golden Egg, only with dogshit. At least three times a day, this golden-furred, floppy ear'd mongrel would scarf down a can of Alpo, a cup of kibble and whatever food was left lying on the table -- the same table the cat always got smacked for climbing on, but the dog ... ohhh, no! It's CUTE when the dog does it! -- then make a beeline to the back lawn where it'd crap Mt. Everest. I'd have to trudge out the the back yard, shovel in hand, while the guy next door shot me the stink-eye because he was tired of fishing dog turds out of his swimming pool every day during the summer. This task is odious enough, but it's a thousand times worse when you're stoned and it's a million degrees out and you'd much rather be floating on your waterbed listening to Dark Side of the Moon in headphones while blissful AC-cooled air wafts over your twice-weekly washed body and not fighting your way through a black fog of Horseflies to reach a 1:1 scale model of Mt. Doom made entirely of a too-quickly digested overpriced slurry of meat scraps and offal that the canners couldn't fob off on Mexico.

It might not have been as bad as all that, but in my hazy recollection, it was pretty darned close.

I'm not sure why I told you all this, to be perfectly honest, but I did. So there.

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