*Warning: Poo-related material. Dogs are gross.
On Monday I took a hike up the lovely Mount Washington. A 3250 foot gain, 8 miles round-trip, the hike was a thigh-burner that rounded through young forests and streams, and crossed an alpine meadow and a boulder field. Quite an excursion.
After lunching at the summit, we headed back down. I had kept Aggie off leash for most of the journey, only reconnecting her around some steep walls edged with loose gravel. As I was about to unleash her again, she lunged for something off to the side of the trail. I pulled her back and saw she had something in her mouth, greenish and slick, like an unpeeled kiwi.
I grabbed her muzzle to try and dislodge the object, but by that time she had swallowed it whole, and I was left with some kind of green goo on my hands.
“What is that?” I exclaimed. I won’t go into the details of how I ascertained the following fact, but I determined without a doubt: “It’s poo!”
I was still pacing in disgust and disbelief, holding my hands out like I was about to receive the Holy Spirit, when my sister Dallas said: “Or something worse than poo.”
“What’s worse than poo?” I yelled (let it be noted the trail was mercifully empty that day), manically applying apple-scented hand sanitizer, which has forever ruined the smell of apples for me.
“Intestines,” said Dallas, pointing to a pile in the leaves. Sure enough, a glistening lump lay among the leaves. I investigated, finding a coil of white intestines bursting with greenish matter and a lump the size of a golf ball which I guessed to be a stomach. Nearby, a single furry rabbit foot lay discarded among the detritus.
Little did I know this story would become a metaphor for the presidential election the next day, a lesson our country is going to learn the hard way. Everyone says there was no good choice in this election. But there’s always a better choice. There’s always something worse than a little poo on your hands, like poo straight from a pile of rotting guts.
Steaming maggoty shit stew. That’s the choice we made. Now we’ll be eating it the next four years.
For more adventures with Aggie, CLICK HERE!