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Arf For A Walk

On my way to work this morning, I saw a dog who reminded me of Billy Connolly’s “wee brown dog.”

It wasn’t wee, as such, mind you. He was upper-mid-sized, probably around 60lb, lanky and leggy, probably a pit-bull and labrador mix. He was a tawny buff color, with a white chest, white feet, and the last few inches of his long, curly, whiplike tail looked like it had been dipped in white paint.

He was booking down the sidewalk with a loaded carrier bag held by both handles in his mouth. Whatever was in it, he seemed to consider quite important. He was trotting along at a swift clip, head held high, casting wary looks about, as though he feared to be relieved of his bounty. He was definitely on a mission, a young dog of mystery and intrigue.

Need I mention that Wednesday is trash day in my neighborhood?

I’m sure his people were ecstatic when he got home with his load of diapers or rancid chicken skins, or some other horrible, purulent treasure.

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