A certain co-worker, who shall remain nameless, decided to bring her dog into the office today as the boss is away. So that's all good, I'm not the world's biggest fan of dogs, but I don't mind them.
So after said dog, a westie for anyone keeping track, has gone properly bat-sh!t crazy running around all over the place and completely knackered herself out (she is 12 or 13) she's gone and had a lay down. At various points appearing right next to me, seeking attention.
As lunch-time nears I decided I didn't really fancy the tin of soup I'd bought in, and since I still owe said colleague a few meals (she's bought more breakfasts than I have lunches) I said I'd get us something from the snack bar around the corner.
So I phone up and order the food, and then am asked if I'd mind taking the dog out while I go around to pick up lunch. I was... reluctant to say the least, partly because a westy is hardly the epitome of masculinity when it comes to dogs, but mainly I was thinking that if the little creature decided to empty her bowels then I would be unprepared and unwilling to deal with it.
"she wont" I was told "she might have a tinkle but that will be it"... ok, I'll take your word for it.
So away we go, stopping every 10 feet to sniff something, and every 20 feet to "mark" her territory. We get this all the way round to the snack bar, where I pick up lunch and pay for it. Then turn to leave.
30 yards back down the road... the dog decides she's going to take a dump.
Now how this tiny little rat of a dog can produce quite so much is beyond me, but as I stand with no bags, and a couple of onlookers she keeps going... and going... and going.
Once she's done it's time for a hasty exit, to return the wee beastie to her owner, and think about how much better cats are.
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