Sunday, July 01, 2012


I walk Chester every morning and evening.  Today, at about 6:45AM, we were on a nice quiet stretch of neighborhood road.  It's so quiet back there, with good distance sightlines, that I can see no car is coming, so I will sometimes let Chester run.  He's really good at coming when called.


Unless someone has thoughtfully plastic-bagged and tied another dogs's deposit then left it on the grass where Chester's super nose can smell it and it will call to him.

He grabs the bag and before I can yell "come" it is gone.  GONE.

I walk up to him and wave a piece of pork - a special treat I carry in a treat bag ($8.95 at Petsmart.)
He isn't moving.  I discover he has the whole bag and contents, in his mouth with nothing hanging over the teeth.  I command him to "Drop It."  He looks back at me with a shit-eating stare.

I take action.  I pry Chester's mouth open and reach in and retrieve the baggie.  Perhaps his needle-like teeth have punctured the bag - I don't do an exam - I throw it away.

Grossed out.

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