Gibs and I walked Harley last night. We are crossing a street when Harley stops in the middle of the street:
Me: “What is in his mouth?”
Gibs: “Oh, it’s probably just a piece of bark…”
Me: “No, I think it’s a DEAD ANIMAL!”
Gibs: “But it’s so dark and flat.”
Me: “Maybe you’re right…”
Gibs searches his pockets for his cellphone and I search my pockets for a doggy bag. I’m using the doggy bag to remove the thing from Harley’s mouth when Gibs uses his cellphone to shine some light on the thing:
Me: “IT’S A SQUIRREL!”
Gibs: “A squirrel?”
Me: “A pancaked, run-over squirrel! That is disgusting! Remind me not to let him lick the squirrel juices on me later, because I’m going to forget...”
I chuck the squirrel-cake in the bushes and we keep walking.
Later that night we are walking up Nicollet Avenue when we see this guy stumbling towards us. The guy is in his 20’s, has a big frizzy ponytail, and is high out of his mind. So of course Friz wants to meet the dog.
Friz: “Can I pet your doggy?!”
Gibs is giving me the “WHAT THE HECK/OH MY GOD/DON’T YOU DARE” look.
Me: “Sure.”
Friz falls to the floor, grabs Harley’s face, and starts cooing and kissing him. Gibs and I exchange a “Is this guy serious?” look.
Friz then lets Harley lick all over his face.
Me (to Gibs): “Are you thinking about the squirrel too? Muhahaha…”
Friz then gets a little too comfortable with Harley. He gives him a full body hug, and then tries to PICK HIM UP.
Gibs’s face says: “WHAT WHAT WHAT?”
Harley’s face says: “Um…thou did not.”
Friz stumbles back and drops Harley. Harley walks away like, “No, fool, you are done.”
Friz: “Come back!”
Harley gives him the “bitch please” look and we keep walking.1
1 Gibs thought it was crazy that I let Friz pet the dog, but I explained that the dead-squirrel-licking made it totally worth it. Also, I trust that a bullmastiff will let someone know when they cross the line…