PATRICK MCVAY

WRITER

Don't Sit Here

 

 

In my next life, I’d like to come back as a dog owned by one of those people who will allow me to pee on virtually any object that protrudes vertically from the ground. Signposts: check. Newly planted rose bushes: check. Slow-moving old people: check.  

The world is filled vertical protrusions, each of which is looked upon by dogs as a toilet where they can leave their scent for other dogs to sniff, as well as little puddles for my children to drop their backpacks into while waiting for the school bus.

With any luck, I’ll be adopted by the sort of woman I encountered last week, who watched in stony silence as her giant pooch urinated on a park bench along the famed Muddy River. This wasn’t a little Pomeranian piddling on the bench legs, but rather an extremely large breed of canine that squirted on the bench seat itself, where actual humans occasionally plant their behinds while eating a ham sandwich.

As I pedaled by on my bike and witnessed the indiscreet canine act, I tried to think positively and identify a lesson learned. It was this: that our fellow humans are often thoughtless boors, and better to picnic on a blanket than on a park bench.

Pat's Disaster Saison
Elated Maids, Inc.
 

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Monday, 18 October 2021

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