Don’t lock your knees at the dog park.
Not unless you want a 150-pound American Bulldog named Dewey running full tilt to swipe your legs out from under you as he and your dog make gleeful hot laps around the enclosure because they’re free! THEY’RE FREEEEEEE! WE CAN RUN LIKE THE WIND WAIT A MINUTE I HAVE TO STOP AND SNIFF YOUR PEEN OKAY LET’S GO RUUUUUNNNN!
Not that this has happened. Yet. But on my less aware days, it’s come close.
I know why dogs sleep all day. It’s because they don’t actually sleep at night, since they are too busy making sure they are always touching you and/or your main squeeze while you sleep so as to protect you from, I don’t know, shadows or dust mites or something, and constantly readjusting their position every time you roll over, twitch your hand, breathe, or sit up in bed and sleep-shout at your partner to give you all his money.
I don’t know what the cats’ excuses are for sleeping all day. God knows they’re not trying to protect us during the night. The only activity they’re prone to at night is staking out my side of the bed and yowling for food. Lazy fucking jerks.
I have never before been so focused on another being’s poo. True story.
You can say things out loud that would be otherwise completely socially unacceptable and possibly get you kicked out of society. I love to grab my dog’s big blockhead and shove my face in hers and extol, “Look at that chin! Look at the wrinkles on that chin!”
Now imagine doing that to your mail carrier.
You need a plastic bag? Because I have one. Or four. All stuffed in the pockets of various coats, because you never know when you’ll need it to: transport slimy kongs, stash some kibble, dispose of poop (always, with the poop).
We have so many more neighbors than I thought we did. Not that I know any of their names, but we’ve chatted quite extensively at the dog park or while out for a walk, and their dogs have wrestled and/or humped my dog, so we’re essentially family now.
Dog farts are going to be the death of me.