More. Just more...

I should have known when I saw the ruckus that something was up. Where there is a ruckus, there is Murph doing something asinine.

We were at the dog park, sunning, reading, enjoying an afternoon free from the apartment. The dogs have been good girls this past week, and especially patient. Last Tuesday, Mommy went fucking crazy, not just regular crazy. She had forgotten how much thyroid medications exacerbate PMS.

We were not an hour in to our celebratory day at the Pasadena dog park when the ruckus started. Dog parks in California are covered in grass and dirt and I wish they weren't. Our old Wiggley Field and its sanitary and nail grinding asphalt floor is looking mighty good right now, though it's a tenth the size of the average LA dog park. No matter how hard they played, there was never a mess to clean up after a trip to Wiggley.

The ruckus was a growing circle of about twenty people surrounding the mud pit that forms next to the bottomless water bowl. The water leaks, the mud starts. It's always there, but my dogs have been warned upon pain of doggy death not to go near that pit. The circle of people were laughing and cheering something on, a stupid animal I assumed. I was about to learn just how stupid that animal was.

I looked over the dog park, and to my dismay, my mutts were no where to be found. I caught a glimpse of Maxie, a hundred yards away on the outskirts of the circle, looking at the ruckus, looking at me, looking at the ruckus, looking back at me. Murph was still missing. Murph was the damn ruckus.

I ran to the circle, and by the time I got there, video cameras had come out to forever catch the antics of this stupid animal. The woman with the standard poodles was holding her crotch to keep from peeing her shorts. The circle parted for me a little, and that's when I saw Murph. She looked like a fish flopping in the last remains of a dried up stream. She was on her back, flicking her paws, rolling left and right, mashing her back fur into the mud. She was splayed on her belly, hugging the mud, so to speak. She was taking long snorts of it, and pushing it around with her snout like a snow plow. Her white spots, the paws, the neck, the chest, were black. She was flopping like an ecstatic seal.

"Murph! NO!"

The circle thought this was just hysterical. They commenced laughing at my expense, which I'm sure my dog didn't read or understand, but somehow knew to do it anyway. At the apex of their mocking, Murph decided she was done with her mud and shook it on to ever bystander. Every watching human and dog was spotted like a Dalmatian with Murphy's mud.

Its nice to know that my little soldier of Karma doesn't limit her brand of justice to Mommy's mistakes.

Posted by The Bunny at 10:58 AM

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