Say what?

An ex-boyfriend once told me: "I can't believe we've been dating this long and I haven't heard you fart yet."



To begin, I'm a pretty private person in real life. But -- heaven forbid -- If I do something embarrassing, the only thing that makes me feel better is, well, telling someone. Or lots of people. As many as it takes to make me feel less embarrassed. So, on this day, I'm telling all of you what humiliating, slightly psychotic thing I got caught doing (and I can only hope that the shame that is rumbling in my gut will subside after this confession).



To back track a bit, I need to explain the way that I communicate with my dog. Most people are known to speak motherese to their pups and kittens in high-pitched, cutesy tones. Well, I do it slightly differently...I say ridiculous things, except I use my normal voice. In my opinion, this makes me sound crazy, as though I'm expecting my dog to talk back. I've never worried about it though, considering I only do this when I'm alone with Dominick. HOWEVER....



I was walking him last night, and he caught a scent of something, probably the trail of a cat or another dog. As it is a beagle's custom, he will follow that scent until A) it dissipates, or B) he finds that dang animal. This also means that he will not poop or pee until either A or B is accomplished. At that point I was cold, wearing pajamas and high heels (they were the easiest close-toed shoes I could grab), and I had finished my cigarette several minutes beforehand. So with one hand on the leash and the other on my hip, I firmly exclaimed, "Dominick, I know that you have poopy-butt. I'm not going to stay out here all night, so you'd better make a stinky or else you'll be prairie-doggin' it until morning!!"



Was I the only human within earshot of that less-than-sane comment? Of course not. In the corner of my eye, I spotted my cute neighbor relaxing on his back porch, about ten feet away from us. My immediate reaction was to pretend that I did not notice him, and run. Run fast. While dragging an apprehensive dog still trying to follow a scent. In my pajamas and high heels. The damn clacking echoed in the parking lot until I'd gotten us safely inside.



You know what? I feel much better now that my story is on the world wide web! I will end this post so that I can cuddle with my stinky-butt poopy mutt (you got it, that's his nickname -- and you're the only ones that know).