I used to let them both trot out to the car, but then Geoffie ran across the street too many times, so we started to carry her, and call Johnny, who seemed to have more sense.
About four weeks ago, Johnny took off across the street to bark at a turkey and almost began a second career as a road waffle. Ever since, I hooked him up to a leash to take him out to the car.
This means I need my bag, my phone, my wallet, one dog under the arm, one dog on a lead, and my keys to leave the house in the morning.
After I drop Squish off, I go by McD's, because they've got my coffee and oatmeal, y'all, and I usually get a sausage patty and a hash brown for the whining, barking, drooling hairy things who have left nose prints all over the passenger window and little tiny puncture marks on the side panel.
Assholes. They whine for that sausage patty, too.
We get home, and after the first day I realized that Johnny is on a leash so they think there are walks involved, and, well, I could always stand to have more walks. So now, we get home and I leave everything but my keys, my phone, and the dogs in the car, and we go around the block, where they crap once each, bark at everything that moves, and take turns pissing on every other house. Then they get home, consider it a great morning's work, and pass out.
Which is great.
I mean, seriously-- we've got ourselves a thang, y'all. Every morning. I get a walk around the block, and they get to crap somewheres besides our dust field of a back yard. (It used to have the prettiest, greenest grass. C'mon, El Nino, we need some fuckin' rain!)
Except Geoffie has this other habit, this weirdo habit of eating her halters. Every week or two weeks or so, she'll chew through part of it and then drag it around the house like a dead mouse.
Because? I don't know. Because she's a DAWG. Because seriously-- we've gone through around twenty halters, thick ones, thin ones, ones made of parachute cord, ones with metal rings at the juncture, ones with no metal rings-- I think the basic concept offends her.
Because she's a dog, she doesn't see the connection between halter and walkies. She just chews the damned things.
So yesterday her halter was allasudden toast. This morning, I'm thinking, "Hey, I just stop at PetSmart (and wish Tommy and Jonah were there!), grab myself a couple of halters, and lickety splickety, we're back out the door.
Who here sees the problem with interrupting the routine at this juncture? Anyone? Quick! Everyone take a guess as to what I forgot about what my dogs NEVER forget at pretty much exactly THIS TIME in the morning.
So, we go into PetSmart and first Johnny tries to eat the 200 lb. German Shepherd named-- I shit you not--DARTH, and then, as I'm reaching for the damned halters with Geoffie in my arms, he makes a pit stop.
One half-quart pee and giant dump, right near the merchandise. He looks at me sheepishly, as if to say, "Well, you got me out of the car and walked me-- what else did you expect?"
I grabbed the supplies (bless PetSmart) and cleaned up what must have been 1/10th his body weight off the floor, then grabbed the two halters and fled to the register.
Geoffie was going batshit by this time, so the clerk helped me put the halter on so she could walk too, like Johnny. And this is how stupid I am. I thought it was so she could actually walk like Johnny. so when they both stopped to dig in the planter, I pulled them both out, because who needs to worry about Dogzilla pee when you're in a shitty parking lot next to a really busy street? So I pull them into the car, and Geoffie starts whining and then…
Well, she was smart about it. She has a little bed, and there's a soft side and a rough side, the non-slip side that goes on the ground, and that side was actually up, so that's where she took a dump.
Looking at me sheepishly as if to say, "Well, yoiu got me out of the car and walked me--what else did you expect?"
But you can never take the shit out of the routine.
No matter what you do different, the shit will still be there.