Playful, elegant, and not above the judicious use of the word “shit."

The medicine cabinet of a dog who won’t fetch

If given the choice between fetching an object or death from prolonged exposure to hot forks of displeasure Chuck would prefer the latter each and every time. The dog just isn’t a fetcher which makes our job of exercising his bony ass somewhat tricky.

I try to take him on at least one long walk a day, but on days when Leta insists on being a big fat cry baby we stay inside so that the neighbors don’t shoot me as I walk by. When Chuck hasn’t been on a walk he gets a raging case of cabin fever and then he starts to pace and the endless clicking of his paws on the hardwood floors makes me want to cut off his Frito-smelling feet and give Leta a few new toys to play with.

So we’ve devised this game to exercise Chuck where one of us stands at the far end of a field and the other stands at the opposite end and we shake bottles of pills. He hears the rattling of the pills and runs between us to receive a reward treat. It’s bribery, yes, and it works.

Last night the clicking of the paws was just awful, and at about 9PM we put on our coats, grabbed a couple bottles of pills and headed out into the front yard. Jon headed up the street and I rounded the house into the backyard, and we bribed Chuck to run between us about four times. The moon was out and shone bright through the haze of the valley’s frost, and I looked down and noticed I was shaking a bottle of laxatives.

When we got back inside I checked Jon’s bottle and smiled wickedly when I realized he was shaking a bottle of anti-psychotics. Funny he grabbed that one when he had the choice of four antidepressants, three anti-anxieties, two anti-seizures, seven bottles of sleep aids, and one big container of stool softener.

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