the fattest f*&%ing dog

Since I was talking bodily functions yesterday, I thought I'd share this strange-but-true story which happened a few year ago at our extended family's house. For the sake of privacy, I will refer to the family members as Uncle X and Aunt Y, but the dog can have his real name, Reece. For the record the family is kind and generous, and much loved.

Ron and I took a drive to visit Uncle X and Aunt Y. It was a significant drive, so we planned to stay the night. This was our first visit to their house, so we had not yet met their dog, Reece. When we pulled up and got out of the car, I instantly started laughing. It was Halloween and I thought they had their dog dressed up in some sort of crazy-fat-dog costume. Alas, Reece was just really really really fat. I would say Reece had a medium frame, like a cocker spaniel, but had fluffy hair like a husky. The Vet said that Reece needed to loose at least 50 lbs right away, so this will give you an idea of how fat he was. Ron leaned over and whispered "that is the fattest f*&%ing dog", which became incredibly funny to me. In fact, I couldn't fall asleep that night because I was continually giggling about the "fattest f*&%ing dog."

Anyhow, Reece was actually a rather sad beast because he had significantly reduced mobility due to his enormous size. One of the rather unfortunate side effects of his weight was that he couldn't hunch over to relieve his bowels. Uhum, so there seemed to be an ever appearing small amount of liquidy feces on his rear end, which inevitably made contact with the carpet, the furniture, your legs, etc. Aunt Y was aware of this and diligent to clean up after Reece. She wore one of those fuzzy pink house coat/dress things with a zipper up the front and followed Reece around with a dish rag and a bottle of windex. In between clean-ups, she would swing the sh*t rag over her shoulder and keep it there. So we are all sitting in the living room chatting, and she keeps the soiled towel on her shoulder.

OMG, right?

The next morning, Aunt Y was nice enough to make breakfast for everyone. My appetite was a tad off and the plate in front of me containing 2 lbs of microwaved bacon was almost enough to put me over the edge (the 2 lbs were straight out of the package, all clumped together, and piled on top of each other, so the ends smelled of burned bacon, while the middle was completely slimy and raw). After breakfast, Reece got the leftover bacon, which was at least a pound. Ron and I stayed at the table, and Ron offered me some more coffee, which I accepted. He got up, washed my cup and got me another cup.

I was nearly done my second cup of coffee when Aunt Y came back in the kitchen looking for something. What do you think she was looking for? The sh*t towel. Where had she left the sh*t towel? In the sink. What had Ron just washed my coffee cup with? Dog sh*t. Dog sh*t from the fattest f*&%ing dog.

See? I told you the testicle coffee wasn't so bad.