This morning we did a Long Range Dog Patrol and deployed at Uncas School - set amidst the farmland and acreages about 8 or 9 miles out of town. The dogs were let off leash to explore and patrol while I supervised and evaluated their performance. I expected nothing less than a perfect performance from my deadly Special-Ops dog team.
Macey was ranging out ahead and then assumed a warning posture. Her nose was buried in the grass. What was it? A fiendish IED set to destroy Captain Sweatpants And His K9 cohorts? A conventional land mine??? The tension was so thick that I held my breath!
Then Macey started to roll. It was like she had suddenly started having nerve spasms. Was it something worse? Great Ceasar's Ghost! A nerve toxin? WMD's at Uncas??? This was certainly a job for Captain Sweatpants!!!
I advanced slowly on my writhing dog - and found the source of her issue: it was a great big fuggin splat of cow chit!!!! And the meat head was rolling in it - in a state of near bliss! Good grief!!! The exercise was a bust. We didn't find any deadly terrorists or threats, my lead dog had disgraced herself and was covered with excrement - and I had to drive in the same car and put up with the rancid stink all the way home. She's in the Laundro-Mutt now. My lovely wife did the honours.
Way to go Macey. You've let us all down!!!
Clearly, some remedial crime fighting training is required. First it was Mort with his disgusting personal problems - now this.