Fire-Crackin' Minnie

I woke up this morning to find the following Post-it note written to me from my mom:


Please pick up dog poop in dog run while you're out there today. Wait! I think it's time you picked it ALL up-- lots on grass. :) Mom


I picked up the dog crap like my mom asked me to. I couldn’t find a paper bag so I put a plastic one inside a round bucket from the garage. This turned out to be a great idea, since it enabled me to turn my shitty chore into a dog poo 3-point shootout. The bucket had a wide diameter and a forgiving rim, so even my "shit bricks" bounced in. I find it amusing that my dogs come running over when they see me outside, but as soon as they realize I’m carting around a large container of their crap, they act disgusted and ignore me.

I go to the dog pen, which is a fenced area that also contains a shed for gardening tools. I’m supposed to clean it out. I look inside and it looks like some kind of scene from Indian Jones, with cobwebs so thick, you’d swear they could support that one Queen spider from Arachnophobia, who squealed like a pig and was impervious to fire. That bitch required a nail gun to take her down.

Anyway, I’m in the process of dragging everything out of the shed and the dogs start barking and yelping like they do when they’ve seen a squirrel or something. I look up and see my brother sneaking up on me from the rooftop.

"Stupid dogs! I was going to throw these firecrackers at you!" he says.

"Aw man, that would’ve been funny," I reply. "Oh well. Throw them at the dogs."

Russ lights the strand and tries to drop it off the roof into a bucket on the ground, so that it won’t make a mess. The firecrackers start going off and Maddie doesn’t really care, since we’ve been nearly blowing her up since she was a puppy, but Minnie gets scared and runs behind the shed and hides. I go into the shed to sweep it and bang on the wall, so she’ll come out.

Well… she DOES come out, but she takes off at light speed and disappears around the side of the house. Russ swears she must’ve gotten out from under the gate and ran away. We both search the yard and don’t find her anywhere. I go driving down the street to look for her, while Russ frantically thinks of no one but himself, and offers no help at all. So I pretty much accept that the only way I’m getting my dog back is if someone finds her and calls the number on the collar.

Anyway, my mom comes home and I butter her up with heroic tales of cleaning out sheds and picking up poo. She seemed pretty pleased with my productive morning, and then casually asks, "Where’s Minnie?" to which I reply, "Oh, Minnie? I, um, was lighting off firecrackers and she ran away."

It wouldn’t have mattered if I had ended world hunger that morning. The angry explosion that went off in my face could only be compared to some kind of explosions that went off in my dog’s face. My first instinct was to run across the yard and hide behind the shed, but I’m too big to fit, so I acted remorseful instead.

I turn around to go back in the house and come face to face with both my dogs. Minnie never ran away. Minnie apparently knows of a REALLY good hiding place. The only reason she came out was because she heard my mom verbally pile-driving me into the ground. My mom picked her up and tried comforting her, but she was obviously very scared. She appeared to be trembling, almost as if someone had thrown firecrackers at her.

It was very sad, and I’m fortunate to have this opportunity to provide her with a good home. Hopefully, through love, affection, and an absence of explosions, we can nurture her puppy spirit back to life.