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Dear Reader,
I took my mother's dog, Brandy, for a walk the other day. I admit I'm not an experienced dog-walker. I have two cats who aren't the least bit interested in walking around the block, but how difficult could walking a dog be? Things started out normal enough. My mother had warned me about Brandy's frequent need to stop and do his "business." But after four blocks of stopping every time we passed a light pole or mail box so he could pee on them, I realized that we needed some new dog-walking ground rules, otherwise it was going to take me four hours to walk four blocks.
So after a Suzanne-to-dog talk, we agreed that he would walk behind me on a short leash, and that I'd pause periodically for him to do some quality sniffing and peeing. The speed of the walk picked up and we were on a positive roll, until we stopped by my friend's store downtown on Main Street.
When I'm out for a walk I always stop and say hello to Linda. I was a little concerned about taking Brandy in the store with me, but I decided if I picked him up--he's a small poodle--and carried him in, he couldn't get into any trouble. Well, I was wrong.
Linda and I were having a nice "what've you been up to, how's business?" chat when a horrible smell filled the air. I knew immediately what it was. Brandy has a well-deserved reputation.
But since my friend had just met Brandy, she wasn't aware of his claim to fame, and she gave me one of those "Oh my gosh, was that you?" looks. It was awful. And we both looked down at the floor, assuming since the smell was so bad, that something must be there. But there wasn't, and the foul smell just clung to every air particle surrounding us. It wouldn't go away.
"It's the dog," I pleaded. My friend was still eyeing me. "Honestly." And I started to tell as many Brandy, inappropriate passing gas stories as I could think of to persuade her that REALLY it was the dog.
"My, that's a rich smell," my friend said as she was walking backwards towards the front door of the store. "Perhaps we should talk outside in case a customer comes in."
It's the first time I've ever been asked to leave a store, and it's the last time I'll ever take Brandy in one.
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
www.DearReader.com
P.S. Brandy and I are still buddies.
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