Desecration

I took my dog, Chloe, for a stroll down Ben Butterworth Parkway yesterday. The sun was out, the birds were chirping, the Gods were smiling down - who knew that scandalous defilement lie in the waiting?

We 'round a corner by a cluster of benches, upon which a couple elderly citizens (was that more PC than old people?) were sitting and watching the ducks. I smile at them politely and they began to smile back. But suddenly, their smiles changed shape - they twisted and contorted and became nearly unrecognizable as I watch their eyes dart down to the ground just behind me. Confused, I turned to look at Chloe. And there she was, in all her glory, squatting down and releasing an exquisite yellow stream - right on top of the memorial stones. Now, I know that my dog recognizes the difference between grass and stone, and whatever possessed her to desecrate such a lovely memorial is beyond me. Ms. Leann Wiley got the majority of it, and hopefully she was looking down and laughing at my dog instead of glaring at me like the old people on the bench.

Apparently, Chloe and I need to have a little talk about r-e-s-p-e-c-t....