Adventures in Dog-Walking

Maybe this blog is becoming more about my odd jobs and less about my naked body.

I say this because recently, I've taken up dog-walking as a non-controversial way to make extra money. And unsurprisingly, it blows.

Today wasn't as bad as yesterday, when it rained all morning. It was sunny, I had a few dogs that I like (my favorite is a 3-pound Yorkie who only needs to walk about 2 blocks), and I didn't have to be anywhere until 11. But I did have five pugs in a row, and let me tell you, pugs are way less cool than they look.

My first pugs of the day, G and E, are gentle little creatures. They're about six years old, and very sweet, but E absolutely hates to walk. So I have 1/2 hour with them, and there I am, dodging a dump truck the entire way up Queens Road in the Hollywood Hills, trying my best to ensure that they don't get run over, and all the while trying to get this little beefeater to move.

"Come on, E!" I gently cajole. She digs her heels in and puts her head down. "Come on, E!" I say again, getting stern. She does the same. With my next tug, I pull her collar off by accident.

Aha. Now we're at a standoff. She knows she has me by the balls, because if she runs she will likely die, and that will be my fault. I try to anticipate her next move. Will it be to the right? The left? A fakeout? Will she just turn around and head for home with everything she's got? She stares me down. The next thing I know, I dive for her, grab her by the plentiful scruff of her neck, and slip the thing over her head. Crisis averted, but now I'm on alert.

Pugs 3 and 4 are assholes. Really, I hate these dogs. B and O. Fitting.

I have witnessed these two little shitheads frighten schoolchildren repeatedly, and when I try to feed them treats at the end of their walk (against my will), they bite me. Basically, they can go fuck themselves, as far as I'm concerned. Also, they make the most disgusting noises, far beyond the typical mouth-breathing snorts of your average pug. They whinny, almost, like someone is slowly but surely strangling them.

I think part of the reason I hate them so much is because their owners are bastards, and their apartment is really messy. Something about it rubs me the wrong way. Also, my boss told me that one of them went through a phase where he only bought orange shit. Is it jsut me, or is that really annoying?

Anyweay, B and O sucked balls per usual today, taking their time crossing the street as if daring me to let them die, and eating berries at every turn that apparently make them puke. Full disclosure: sometimes, I cut their walks short. I did it again today.

Pug 5 is cool, but he is the biggest fatass of the bunch. This guy hates a walk more than anything. Our 1/2 hour takes us, literally, up the street and back. Today was no different, with the added bonus of the piece of dog shit that hung from his asshole by a hair (yes) that he tried to roll around in before I had to glove my hand and pull it off.

And that was my day! That's my new life. For now. No more laps, no more stages. We'll see how long I last.