'The true Soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because He loves what is behind him.' -G. K. Chesterton

25 September 2012

Angus And I Are No Longer Allowed In The Gun Store

So today Angus and I went shopping for a gun for Lu. We headed over to Sportsman's Warehouse, not because we love them but because they do tend to have the best prices locally. They also look kindly on dogs and invite you to bring in your K-9 pal if you so desire. Or maybe I should say they did.

After Angus got his expected greetings from the cashier nearest the front door we headed for the fun aisle. As we walked he did his usual; "What's that? Oooh what's that!? Can I eat that? Do you want me to sniff your crotch while you scratch my ears? Was that a squirrel?" I was lost in thought, contemplating the incipient purchase and the adulation that was certain to come my way when it was presented to a certain appreciative wife. Then I noticed the leash was suddenly slack, which is pretty unusual as Angus is very much a 'lead the way' kinda dog. I stopped and glanced back only to behold my dog, my best friend, my pal, the furry canine companion I love and spend so much time, effort and energy on...

Copping a squat.

Oh, not over in a rarely used, currently empty aisle where no one would see him. No no no. Right there in the main pathway to and from pretty much everything in the store. In front of staff and patrons and everybody. Right where everyone in the store could behold my mortification and shame. I tried to get him to shut it off. "What are you doing? Stop that. Come here. No wait, don't come here but please, for the love of all that is holy stop what you're doing. Uh....SIT!"

Alas it was to no avail. Angus gave me the "you have got to be kidding me" look and, recognizing when I'm beat, I let him finish his business. To the titters and outraged intakes of breath from the non doggie set and the evil eye from the "I am so not cleaning that up!" staff. I had a much battered paper towel in my pocket that just let me pick up the freshly steaming pile without getting more than 4 of my digits completely covered in Angus poo. I picked up the handkerchief of shame and mortification, tucked my head down and headed for the front door as fast as my legs would carry me. Proceeded by a certain black dog with a spring in his step, a smile on his face and not a single shred of remorse.

Needless to say Angus and I are no longer allowed back in the Sportsman's Warehouse. By mutual and unspoken understanding.

Note to self: Take Angus for a walk before going somewhere potentially humiliating.



CoolChange©© said...

That is some of the funniest stuff I have read in a long time. Thank you so much.

Murphy's Law said...

LOLOLOL! One of the first things that I teach my dogs is to go do their "dog business" on command. Then before I take them anywhere, I make sure that they do it. And lest ye think that I'm just all smart and stuff, it's because both Murphy and Lagniappe before him have done this sort of thing in places where I'd have preferred that they not. Eventually the human component of the team learns.

Six said...

Thanks CC!

You'd think I'd learn ML but no. I gotta always do things the hard way. Dogs. If it's not dead things it's poop.