Dad Gum Dog
I rushed home after work yesterday to mow the yard. It’s been two weeks and lots of rain later, and the grass was a magnificent wonderland for all those things living and growing in our yard, but it was a nightmare for our Dad Gum Dog. DGD is somewhere around 18 years old, but we really don’t know. She’s a mix of many different breeds and probably had many different fathers, but we really don’t know. She gets all her exercise from walking down the driveway, across the sidewalk, all the way to the opposite end of the yard from where she starts and then sniffs her way back, stopping every now and then to do some business. The grass had gotten so high from the unusual amounts of rain, so she had to sniff through new and bigger layers of grass blades, thus preventing her from finding that perfect smell representing that perfect spot and thus doing her not-so-perfect business in our front yard.
So I mowed yesterday. I got the grass back down to a point where she could see and sniff over it, and lo and behold, she found her spots perfectly and like a finely tuned Olympic athlete, she went out, cruised down the driveway, sniffed her way to the end of the yard, climbed in and did her business, and sniffed her way all the back.
So that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. I mowed for the Dad Gum Dog.
