Attack of the Weiner Dogs (and a pile o' shite)

What up, my peeps? Sir Zipadelli is in the house.

I haven't been able to spend too much time outside lately because of all of the rain. The yard I call my pad is very muddy. The daddy monster doesn't like it when I trek mud all over the house (he hates it even more when the littlest monster lets me in without cleaning me feet)! He got so annoyed (I know it is a stretch for many of you to picture him annoyed) the other day he instructed his offspring that I could not go out unless I was on a leash. The mama monster said I would never take a crap (my word) while on the leash. The daddy monster disagreed. I, on the other hand, saw an opportunity. Back to that later.

So the monster daddy decided he had watched enough hours of MI-5, and had read long enough on his Kindle, so he decided to take me for a walk. While I walk, I don't pay too much attention to the loser dogs that are fenced in their yard. While we were walking past this house on the next block, we both heard a bark coming from a small dog. Great, I thought to myself. Another yapper dog spouting off at the mouth trying to ruin my f'ing walk. Then there was another bark. And another. That was enough to get our interest. Around the back of the house comes 8 weiner dogs. They were like a flock of birds, moving towards me in one solid wave. I heard the daddy monster mutter something along the lines of, "FFS". I was thinking the exact same thing. So here comes this swarm of weiner dogs yapping as they charge at me. I stood there, rather annoyed. This wasn't enough for me to even raise me ears. Then I heard the owner begging her precious little mutts to stop and come back. The midgets still came. One of the lil' dwarfs ran so hard at me he could not stop, and he bounced of my leg. "Is this for real?" I thought to myself. Then one of them took a little nip at my shoulder. That really sent the owner into a frenzy. "I'm so sorry" is all she kept on saying. She had plenty of reason to be sorry. These oscar meyer's were embarassing her. Bouncing off my leg...give me a break!! She smelled funny, too. I'm guessing her name was Mary.

Anyways, the owner was able to corral the little minions and we continued our walk. We got to an open area, and the daddy decided to let me sniff around to see if I had to take a dump. Oh did I. I had been waiting for this. I was going to pay him back for not letting me play out in the mud. I found the perfect spot and prepared to empty my bowels. He was looking the other way, and he must have heard the squish sound, because he turned to me and said, "Zippy, get out of the mud." The look on his face was priceless. No. That squish sound was not the sound of me stepping into mud. It was the sound of gas leaving my arse under pressure. Immediately following the gas was a slimy, watery, runny, putrid, and foul pile of shite...followed by more gas :). I knew that whenever I laid a log outside the yard, the owners would feel compelled to pick up my crap with a bag and take it home. They must be so proud of my shit that they have to take it home with them!! This time was no exception. The daddy monster pulled out the special blue bag, took a deep breath, and got a handful of my latest masterpiece. I thought he was going to faint!!! It was putrid!! Sure as shit, he took it home with us.

And that's the story of my walk.

You are all my bitches!!!

Zippy