I hadn't planned on telling you this story, as I felt this space draws a cultured crowd, who enjoy the finer details in life, but then I realized I am not of elite blood so if you can't be bothered with toilet talk I recommend checking out this website instead.
This tale begins a few days back when my beloved Dog, Kaz, and I went on a nice little stroll around the neighbourhood. As is often the case, we stopped and tossed his beloved kong. To say he adores his kong is an understatement. It is his admirable companion, aside from me and Chad, his raison d'etre, his lifeline. When the kong goes under the couch and out of his reach, he will lay heartbroken next to the place where his BFF fell victim to the underbelly of the couch, and wait for someone to rescue it.
As we walked back to the house I lead the way, and Kaz took up the rear, with important sniffing to be done. As soon as I rounded the corner I realized he was not on my heels and so turned back to find him. There he was whining at the bushes, his kong no where in sight. SO I told him to find it and get moving. But he just sat there whining. When I took a few steps towards the him, I could see his kong lying in front of him. So I yelled at him to get it and come, but he didn't budge. Finally I made my way over to him and saw the problem: He had obviously had an unexpected gurgle and had had to evacuate pronto, except in his haste he managed to cover his poor kong. It was a dilemma indeed. Now I am not one to shy away from unpleasantries-- in fact I even clean the sink goo out with my bare hands, but I draw a line at picking up toys covered in warm turd. So I told him he had to decide what to do: leave it be or suck it up and carry it home.
Kaz is a 'leave no mad behind' kind of dog. But he was mad at me, spitting and snarling once we'd made it home. And to add insult to injury I made him leave it outside in the rain to clean off.
Yesterday, after hosing the thing off, we set out once again for our stroll. And while at the field he dropped the ball just a few meters ahead of me. This is one of his games, drop the ball a little bit further away to prove he's master. I was talking to him and telling him how pathetic I thought that was, and then as I reached down and picked up the kong I discovered the warm and mushy telltale sign of the masterplan behind his little game. I am quite sure I heard him laughing and muttering how it served me right to force him to eat his own feces, but then it's hard to know as I don't speak Dog.
Touche, Kaz, touche.