So, I have been trying (KEY WORD, TRYING) a new thing to make sure I get some exercise before I fuck around on Facebook every day….

I have vowed I will walk the dogs around Fowler Lake in Oconomowoc each morning-ish (because it usually ends up noon before I do).  I (in theory) have to do this before posting on FB each morning. It has since been revised that I can conduct BUSINESS on FB prior to walking, but my social, fun posting has to wait until the dogs are walked–or my ass will continue to grow, and I can’t have that. I am one step away from having to live in leggings again, because I refuse to buy jeans bigger than my “fat jeans” that I already grew back into.

Every morning, I let the dogs out, and try to get them to go to the bathroom before we walk. I tell them to go potty, I tell them to go run around when they don’t go potty, in hopes that it gets things moving. Nope. They never go.

We get in the car, and head over to Our Savior’s Church in Oconomowoc to park and start the two mile walk around the lake. It’s actually 1.89 miles, but since I have to walk back to one of the three garbage cans on the walk several times, back and forth, it ends up being two miles.

I thought yesterday was bad–I literally had a half mile in, and we hadn’t even cleared sight of my car, due to the non-stop “walk a half block, poop, pick up, walk back to the garbage can” game that we played SIX TIMES.

Well, they topped themselves today.

We parked at the church…Max immediately pooped in the plants. I picked it up, took two steps towards the garbage can, he pooped again. I picked it up, took four steps towards the can, Anya pooped. I almost gave up and came home, but figured they had to be empty.

I figure it’s okay to cross the road and get to the garbage, and proceed with our walk. NOPE.

Max went AGAIN. I was so tempted to call it a day, AGAIN, but gee, they HAD TO BE DONE, right? I went on my merry way…and .41 miles into it, they both took monster elephant craps.

I need to figure out what to do. I do not feed them before we go. And frankly, I don’t like carrying around 5 pounds of dog shit while walking every morning. It’s beyond disgusting. It’s like they have some chip on their sphincter that is activated by putting their leashes on.

I DO want to thank Hallet Vet for supplying the poop bags at the three stops on the walk. I literally use six a day.  I should maybe notify them when I am not walking the dogs–they can save a trip checking up on the dispensers.

Or…maybe it’s time to go to Nashotah Park and hike the trails again. I’ll be honest, I am the asshole who doesn’t pick up poop if they don’t poop ON the trails, but rather, on the side of the trails. My logic is it’s in the woods, deer and fox are pooping there daily…and there are NO garbage cans on the trails at all. So, if you are in the Lake Country area and see basically elephant crap along side any wooded trails, it’s me. Or rather, it’s MY DOGS. I own it.

No, this is not about Donald Trump, or any politics. So, today, I got in an altercation at Costco with a couple old ladies. It ended when I told them to stop acting like “such bitchy old sea hags and move along.” When recounting the incident to Pat, I told him I didn’t even have to resort to ripping on their bad fashion sense. That is always my final card, and it makes Pat’s head explode.

Over ten years ago, we had an “incident” on vacation that left Pat so pissed at me, it was a couple days before he started talking to me normally again. So, yeah, you know it had to be bad.

It was in October, and we were in a small town in upper MN called Tofte. We go to a great resort there, because a couple of the units allow dogs. and for some reason, I end up with high-maintenance dogs that end up on vacation with us. This was back when we had Klaus and Ava. Klaus was a 100+ pound German Shepherd with a huge chest and head. Ava was a silver sable, so she looked a little wolf-like, and was also 90+ pounds. Both were intimidating, if you didn’t know them and they came running up to you.

So, we were at this huge boat launch with the dogs, on Lake Superior, and they were running loose, with Klaus swimming, and Ava barking at him. It was just us and the dogs, until this big RV pulled up.

Out came an older couple, dressed head-to-toe in white outfits.

And Klaus and Ava ran up to them, despite me screaming their names and screaming for them to “COME”…shockingly, none of my dogs listen very well…and Klaus and Ava actually had YEARS of obedience training.

And…they proceeded to jump all over this old couple, with muddy paws, creating brown works of art on their pristine white outfits. I freaked out, screamed for Pat, and ran to the truck and locked myself in it.

Pat had to go up to the couple, apologize profusely, gather up the dogs, and get them in the truck. He them jumped in the truck and started SCREAMING AT ME…telling me what an asshole I was for running away and leaving my horrible dogs and a big mess for him to bat clean up on. He told me if I can’t get my dogs to listen to me, I really shouldn’t have dogs, and a bunch more blah blah blah I don’t recall anymore…but let’s just say I have seen Pat REALLY batshit-crazy pissed maybe five times in 17 years, and this was one of them.

When he paused to catch his breath and yell at me some more, I said, “Well, it’s THEIR fault anyways.”

“What the hell are you talking about? The dogs fault? The old couple? What…the…FUCK?????!!!”

“The old couple,” I replied. “It’s THEIR fault.”

“How in the fuck is it THEIR FAULT your dogs are assholes, and you ran away and now they are covered in mud?” Pat screamed at me.

“Well,” I explained calmly, “It’s after Labor Day and they are dressed in all white. Everyone knows you don’t wear white after Labor Day.”

Honestly, if he could have gotten away with strangling me at that moment, he would have. Instead, he literally didn’t talk to me for a while…and that is how my winning Trump card was created. When all else fails, I point out their bad fashion choices and move on.