My sister, my son, my dog & a giant exercise ball… in a Toyota. I’m sure there is a country song about that….. if there isn’t, well, there will be before I am done telling the story.
We have about an hour to go and we (that would be me, the driver, in my infinite intelligence) decide to stop so I can nurse the babe a bit, let him stretch, and let the dog run around. So Sweet Boy gets a snack and becomes Mr. Happy… all giggles & flirting & standing in his car seat. Gunnar (the dog) goes for a little run, comes back and scares my sister… who isn’t expecting him to run up from the south…. She pets him and says, “Hmmm, how did he get wet? Oh shit, this isn’t wet…. It’s… oh shit.”
Yup. Fresh cow crap. There are no cows in a 50 mile radius of where we are parked…. How did he do it? How did he find any that wasn’t frozen? How did he get it behind his ears? The dog is amazing.
After a brisk snow rub-down & toweling off we allowed the dog back in the car. If I had gotten pulled over for speeding I’m pretty sure one whiff of the interior would have gotten me off the hook….. or warranted a call to social services to remove my child.
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