I have no clever title, sorry.

Today was in absolutely gorgeous day on Topsail Island; 60's and sunny.  I decided it would be the perfect time to walk two stubborn dogs simultaneously.  Turns out, that would be the least of my troubles.

My dog, Lady Maritime is simply crazy.  There's just no other way to describe her.  She's so happy to see anyone or anything that her entire body wags constantly.  Birds are a favorite, so pulling happens. A lot. The other dog (if you can call it that), is my brother's dog.  Kind of.  See, my brother lives in Africa and he mailed home a wild dog from the Sahara Desert and he, Nittany, now lives with my parents.  He also pulls on the leash during walks. However, Nittany goes towards the dunes, not the birds on the shoreline.  However, this isn't even problematic.  As my students say... See what had happened was...

Picture this: mid-sixties and sunny.  I'm even barefoot walking through the water.  Nittany violently pulls me up toward the dunes.  And towards the ONLY group of people on the beach anywhere. Perhaps even the island.  It's a group of college-aged guys.  Drinking bud-light in the middle of the day, so this can only go well as I am dressed, as my father said, "skank-like."  It was hot, so I had ditched my shirt and was just wearing my oddly patterned green and light green cami.  Despite not being super attractive, it was a hand me down, and free is my favorite. 

Nittany proceeds to poop.  I should tell you this is his second of the walk.  This first smelled so horrific I can't even describe it.  However, the paint at my parents' beach house, a mile and a half away began peeling.  I digress.  SO he poops; or actually doesn't because it's just a small amount of foul smelling liquid.  It's close the high tide, we didn't make it far from the shoreline, so I made the executive decision to mix it with sand and slide it towards the waves.

I start to give him a little leash--tug before realizing he is squatting, again.  So now I look like the worst pet owner ever.  I may have actually tugged twice.  But I stopped when I realized what was going on.  The whole time the guys were still watching me.  I should tell you I am not looking super hot.  Remember the cami?  Yea, pea green.  Also there's some stomachy-muffin toppy stuff left over from when I had my daughter in May. (Hushed voice: of 2004.)

Nothing is coming out.  Nittany starts doing a small bounce.  I'm telling him, "there's nothing there--let's walk some more.  please."  He doesn't care.  Then he starts scooting.  Dragging his bottom through the sand.  The guys are pointing.  And, there was no space launch.

After hours, or minutes, he's finally able to be persuaded to move.  But briefly.  He keeps looking back--like that's the only place he can poop. Anywhere.  Finally I acquiesce, mainly because I am now becoming fairly self-conscience. 

We're now heading back; I'm looking for sea glass and not really paying attention.  A jogger runs by.  I manage to grab Nittany and pull him closer.  But the leash does not lock or comes unlocked or hates me, I don't really know.  He nips her hand.  She stops and says to me, "He just doesn't know I'm a dog lover."  I smile and think, "You're right.  He thinks you're a chew toy."  She does the dumbest thing she did all day.  (Well, stealing a line from Todd Snider, "I can't say it was the dumbest thing because I didn't she where she went after that..")  She squats to eye-level with Nittany.  I try forcing Maritime in between the two.  It doesn't work.  Maritime wants the birds, the lady wants Nittany and I fear Nittany wants lunch.  Shit.  These poop bags are no where near big enough to put a body into.  I start praying.  "PLeaseee don't eat her, pleaseeee."  No, I'm not being dramatic--it's a wild animal.  I mean he's kind-of been domesticated, but still wants to chew flesh.

He sniffs and licks her hand.  I am not relieved.  Licks are sometimes a precursor to death.  She puts his face to hers.  My prayers become so much more intense.  Nittany reaches out and licks her nose.  The woman is ecstatic.  "See, I told you I'm a dog person."  I think to myself, "Good, because you were almost a dead person."  I quickly usher Nittany away and head home.  That's not the best ending to this, but it's what I got.

Oh, and then I found $5.