HUMOR

My Dog Tried to Urinate on Some Runners, It Made Me Happy

Another beautiful moment in nature

Photo by Jozsef Hocza on Unsplash

If I walk another two thousand steps, I could eat the last cookie. But what if someone else eats the cookie first and I do another two thousand steps for no reason like a chump?

No, just do it. It’s worth the risk.

I looked down at my naked wrist.

Oh, yeah. I stopped wearing a steppy counter watch three years ago. What happened to it? Raccoon? I’ll just have to count. One, two, three… What’s that? Voices? Why now? Why ever?

“Sammy,” I called to my dog as I tugged on his leash.

He trotted over to me as I spun around, scanning the fields and walking trail around me. Shrill giggles filled the air.

Ugh.

I followed the noise with my eyes. Rounding the corner behind me were a group of four women — ponytails, sports bras, and bicycle shorts up their asses.

A bunch of Jessicas.

“Sammy, come here,” I said, pulling him to the side of the trail as the Jessicas jogged towards me.

Sammy resisted. He froze in the middle of the trail, gave me a blank look, and cocked his leg.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed. “You’re supposed to do that against a bush or a tree. You’re pissing into the breeze!”

“Aww, look at that dog. So cute,” Jessica 1 giggled.

He’s about to piss on you.

“I love running with my dog,” Jessica 2 replied.

Alright, you TikTok Fuck. He can’t run; he’s three hundred years old. Like me.

And I exercise too. Not in public, obviously. I look like a goblin when I work out.

“Sorry,” I said, pretending to try to drag Sammy, who was covering himself in urine, out of the way.

“Oh my god, did I tell you I love your running outfit?” Jessica 3 said to Jessica 4 as they side stepped Sammy and his flying piss.

You both have the same outfit on.

“Thanks, Girl! I literally got it yesterday in the sale,” Jessica 4 replied.

I literally thought about buying matchy-matchy workout clothes once. But there’s still some life left in my old Nike t-shirt that somehow smells like Tequila and has a hole big enough for a tit to escape.

“Cute! I was sale shopping last week,” Jessica 3 squeaked. “But it was mostly older clothes like denim jackets and skinny jeans.”

Yeah, I’m wearing skinny jeans right now. Back in my day, we needed sensible clothes for safe use of the spinning wheel and collecting water from the well.

“Did you get that wedding arms workout I sent you?” Jessica 2 asked as they moved away.

Been there, Sister. My arms were bitchin on my wedding day. Not that anyone noticed because some bellend convinced me to wear a lace-up whore wedding dress and unsurprisingly, I looked like a twat.

“Oh my god, yes! I did it yesterday and loved it,” one of the Jessicas replied. “I’m going to be loving my arms for life!”

I don’t think I’ve looked at my arms for three years. I assume they’re still there.

Sammy stuck out his tongue and trotted toward me, happily.

“Oh, you’re finished now?” I said in an exasperated tone.

Your aim needs work.

“Who is she talking to?” One of the Jessicas muttered as they made their way down the trail.

“Oh, bless her,” one of the others replied.

Bless me? I’ll karate-chop your shin. Fucking dildos.

Who doesn’t talk to their dog? Maybe they heard me call that bluebell a bastard earlier.

Their shrill giggles disappeared down the trail.

They’re laughing at my skinny jeans, aren’t they?

“Come on, Sammy,” I said as we strolled after them.

Four, five, six. Fuck it, that’s enough steps for a cookie.