So This Happened Today

A few days ago my dog had fallen down an embankment at the park and started limping pretty noticeably, and without stop.   So I made an appointment to see the vet.  I brought the dog in today, vet looked her over, prescribed some pain pills, and said the dog would be fine.  So after I paid, I walked out of the vet’s office and towards my car. Right before I got there,  a group of three women jogging saw my dog and approached me.   The dog is ridiculously cute. It’s basically the equivalent of walking around with Justin Bieber on a leash.

The only difference between my Dog and Bieber is that 16 year old girls don't want to fuck my dog.

“Oh my God.  Your dog is so cute!  What’s his name?,” one of the women said.

“It’s a she.  Her name’s Beatrice.”

They ask if they can pet the dog, I say no problem, they begin petting her.  But then the dog decides it needs to take a shit.  It happens.  They make the standard “when you gotta go, you gotta go,” joke, then continue to talk to me about the dog, as it’s shitting.

I get out my poopie bag.  But then I notice the dog is having trouble.  It’s not that strained-face intensity that comes with constipation.  It looks more like a high school student trying to mull over a really hard calculus problem.

Then one of the women says “Come on, Beatrice, you can do it!” as if the dog is thinking “You know what? I’m just not pumped up enough to shit. I feel like nobody believes that I can shit this out. WAIT, DID SHE JUST SAY COME ON?  IT’S SHITTING TIME.”

So, the dog continues, and I see something start to come out of her butt, and it’s not poop.

Little info on my dog: my dog, much like most dogs, is very curious and likes to root through the garbage in my house.  We try and close all the doors to rooms that have trashcans, but sometimes we forget.  And apparently sometime in the last 36 hours, we forgot close the door to the bathroom, because slowly coming out of the ass of my dog, is the open end of a condom.

So as soon I see the opening of the condom, I know what it is, because I recognize it, which means that from now on every time I reach for a condom an image of it coming out of my dog’s butthole is going to flash in my mind.  But right at this moment, that is the LEAST of my concerns.

“Oh no, did she eat a balloon?” one of the women asks.

I freeze up and tell the worst lie in the entire world because I’m a terrible liar.

“Oh yeah!  It is, my daughter had her fourth birthday party last week and we filled a pinata with balloons because she likes pinatas and balloons and then I guess some of the balloons…” AND THEN I JUST TRAILED THE FUCK OFF BECAUSE I’M AN IDIOT.

But my dog wasn’t done, and as she strained and pushed, more of the condom started coming out of her butt, until it was very clear, that this was no balloon from a pinata-balloon party.  This was a condom.

This is the closest thing I could find to a pinata balloon party, mostly because THEY DON'T EXIST.

I reach down with my poopie bag and tried to pull the rest of the condom out of my dog’s butt, but my dog, just like everyone else, does not like having things pulled out of her butt.  So she starts trying to scoot away from me, and I lunge and grab her leg, and then rip the condom out of her butt.

Then I turn to find the three women staring at me in frozen terror.

It was like this, except there were three of them. Staring. Judging. Stare-judging.

“My daughter had a balloon party,” I said weakly.  Then they walked away.