As some of you may know, I brought my puppy Mia to the shop this week (when she wasn’t plastered in her own fecal matter!) because my parents took a little vacation to the Pacific Northwest. She had a good time checking out the city. At least she knows now to be afraid of cars.
She was quite mischievous today, nesting in the clothes (polybagged to retain freshness!). Funniest moment this whole week was when she was playing out in the front of the shop and my buddy Gio walked in with an expression of awful trepidation etched across his face and when I walked to the front to see what was up, I literally gagged from the stench. It was clear to me that Mia had found herself a cozy little area to squeeze out a pungent dookie or two. The problem was that we are literally out of power in the front area so we didn’t know where the poo was so all three of us (Gio, Ian & me) were daintily stepping around trying to avoid stepping on it whilst using our noses to zero in on ground zero. After a while, we came to the conclusion that either our noses had gotten used to it, or she had just let out one of the most rankest, most god-awful hell-raising farts I’ve ever encountered thus far.