Sunday, March 27, 2016

The Inner Dialogue of a BMM II... Walking the Dog

Part II in the series:

Home from another long ass day tap dancing for massa. Ya, it's a #firstworldproblem, but shit man, a enough drops of water causes a flood.

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Time to take the dogs out.

Feels nice out. Perfect day to be out walking the dog. Not too cold, just right for these pampered dogs. In my next life I'm coming back as one of my dogs. Yup, gourmet meals every day, personal gym, prime sleeping location, and all I've got to do is not piss and shit on the floor and then bark at strangers coming to the front door. Easy peasy.

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Man, don't let your kid just run up to my dogs. I know they won't bite, but who do you think is going to have the cops coming to my house ready to kill my "pitbulls" saying they were off-leash and mauled your kid?

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Ha. ha. ha. Ya, go ahead and cross the street from a block away. Trying to make it look like you were actually trying to walk on the unplowed side of the road. Is it cause of my two "ferocious" dogs? One that's afraid of the wind and the other that's afraid of skateboards? Or is it cause I don't "belong" in a neighbourhood that I've lived in my whole life? Or is it a combo of the two and I make you think of Michael Vick?

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Life is funny. On the flip side I just had the oldest, most Whitest, Ronald Reagan/Donald Trump/Stephen Harper-loving White lady saunter right up to me and tell me the first dog she had was a boxer that survived the bombings in England in WWII.

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Damn dog. Go pee!

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