I broke ma' pony!

You know how you have this big, hairy asshole? And it smells and is sometimes grumpy, and it's a little bit dopey and eats you out of house and home? And so you sadly decide to NEVER leave the house with it, which can be inconvenient at times. But you have to, cause that asshole is out of control.

And then you finally take the advice of absolutely millions and you reign it in. You head to Amazon to find that cure for the household asshole. And then you let the package sit on your kitchen table for a few days. And then finally FINALLY you open it and welcome in a new adventure. And ohmyword. I am trying so hard to not sound like a commercial right now, but tonight I finally bought (I mean opened the package that arrived days ago that contained) a Gentle Leader. It's not a muzzle it's a head collar! is what it pleads on the front of the package. Which is a bit comforting. Cause the thing looks like something straight out of a Pulp Fiction basement scene. It came with a training DVD, which I admit, was a bit intimidating. If something requires an explanation so long that I have to take a thing, put it in another thing, find the clicky thing that turns it on some magical way, and then sit down and pay attention to what it's telling me, it does not bode well for whatever the thing is supposed to be or do. The great news was that it also came with a poster! Sigh of relief, I tell you. I called Dexter over (my bit, hairy asshole - which I hope you figured out long, long ago) and he stood in front of me, perfectly in front of me, like he was mimicking the irish setter in the poster. Or whatever breed it was. Probably irish setter. More likely a lab. Everyone has a lab. A LAB FOR EVERYONE!

I read the easy-on-the-eyes 96pt font. Followed the pictures, carefully. Adjusted, re-adjusted. Hugged Dexter's big ol' floppy neck. *SNAP!* and *CLIP* just like the poster said. Then I stood back and gave it a go. Let Dex lumber about the kitchen for a step or two, then watched him paw at his face like a bear that ate a beehive, shook my head and said "ohhhh you hate this". And with the wise guidance of my Cransky, I re-adjusted, re-adjusted some more, then stepped back, and gave Dex clearance to wiggle out into the backyard. I did a test kick of his tattered and popped pink soccer ball and Dex lunged after it, un-inhibited by his head collar (which is totally not a muzzle). This was a go.

It was raining. An incredible once-a-year-if-that type of rain. Muggy, deliciously warm, coming down hard enough to soak you but soft enough that you could look up into it, that kinda rain. I threw on my raincoat, shot a glance back at Cransky, snapped open my palm and said "Leash. Stat." Clipped it onto the "o" ring and Dex and headed out the front door into the magical dusk, Cransky flapping his apron in the doorway behind us, wishing us well.

Dexter tottered down the front steps. He swayed his head like Ludo. And then he righted himself, like a canoe that's found its current. He pulled a little to the right, and then eased back to my side. He tried to trip me up on the left, but then glanced back to center and maintained a straight (or straight enough) path. I stooped to pick some fragrant white flowers. They're a ground cover and they come up for only 2-3 weeks a year. Their stems are silver and lovely and I have no idea what they are. I grabbed a little bouquet and my big, hairy asshole and I set off around the block. My elbow never strained, my stride hardly changed. And Dexter had his head up for once, looking around him with very bright and happy eyes. Finally getting his nose out of the death and dog poop smells of the sidewalk periphery and into the air!

My sandals were soggy, his coat was splotched with rain, and we walked back through the front door and declared "Victory!" And we high fived. His paw was very dirty. And I said to Cransky "Quick! To the iPhone! This moment must be commemorated! Cause woo hoo! I broke ma' pony!" And Cransky's eyes got wide, and he knowingly flew to the iPhone charger and quickly swiped to the camera app and snapped up this beauty:
I know the look says less "I'm loving this face prison" and more "I'd rather be a squirrel" but trust me, this dog is STOKED.


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