Anything Lime



Looking for a dog walker who is responsible, pays attention to hygiene and doesn’t mind a few hard blows to the face

I would call last night’s late walk a lovely stroll in the park, but that’d be quite a stretch. It was after 11, and I had already initiated my sleeping sequence. My teeth were brushed, my contacts were out and I had slipped into a nightgown and gone through my nightly routine.

I threw on a pair of sweats under my sleep shirt and slid my feet into a pair of Patrick’s sneakers in the foyer. I leashed up Kya, and the two of us went on our way. What is usually a 30-second act of bladder emptying turned into a crazy 19-minute charade that began with Kya pulling me down the stairs and out of one of my shoes. I spun around to get it and just as my hand grasped the lace, Kya leapt into the air as startled dogs do. Nay, as startled cats do. Shoe in hand, I hit the ground. My face pressed up against the wet brick path outside my apartment.

“Ok, Kya, show’s over. Now PEE!”

Blinded and half sleeping, I couldn’t quite see what Kya was staring at as I put the shoe back on my wet foot. Though, it seemed that the second handle on her leash, which is only inches away from the clasp, was swinging back and forth in a way that made her think something was latched onto her neck. Silly rabbit.

“No, Kya, look… this is your leash! Duh!”

Things took a weird turn after that, she was jumping and twirling and yanked me out of my other shoe, doubling the number of soaking wet feet connected to my body.

“KYA! Will you chill the fuck out? LOOK!” I said as I grabbed onto the handle and put it toward her face. She made a giant CHOMP just before I felt it. Something giant and buzzing touched my hand. She was right, there was some tiny flying monster that had landed on her leash.

I tried my best to fling the giant bug off of the leash so we could go about our business and begin our nightly slumber. In a perfect world, I would have swung the leash in one swift motion and the bug would have flown away to sleep with his family. Last night, however, was far from perfect. I grabbed the leash, started swinging the handle and the bug came shooting at my face like a chubby kid out of a cannon. I started to lose my balance as my feet squeaked inside Patrick’s shoes. Kya chomped and swatted, and managed to get the bug to the ground. Thinking it was dead, I moved in for a closer look. And, by closer look, I mean I had to stick my face just inches from its lifeless body if there would even be a chance of me identifying it. The night was dark, the light on the outside of our building was worthless and I’m legally blind without my contacts. Doesn’t mesh well for insect inspecting. So I pushed my face down toward the ground, and other than seeing it was a little black wad, I couldn’t really see much. The bug, who wasn’t dead at all, sprung up toward me. My brave/clumsy dog jumped in front of me in an attempt to save me from the insect’s wrath. And, while doing so, she took her huge, dome-shaped, rock-hard skull and smashed my face. 37 fractures.

Holding my nose, yanking the leash, we continued on our pointless walk. Pointless? Did I say pointless? Yeah, that’s because instead of walking and doing her business, she insisted on pulling me around and screaming, “I CAN TOTALLY TAKE THAT BUG!”

You can imagine how thrilled I was when she woke me up a few hours later because this time, she assured me, she REALLY had to pee.

I hate that dog.

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Comments

  1. * Patrick says:

    I love that bitch.

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 2 months ago


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