We went to the park for a change of air and enjoy the cool, Icarus and me. One feature of my dog is lying in when they no longer want to walk. I was trying to convince him to stand up when an old man approached us. His dog looked so old and ailing Icarus has simply ignored or he has not realized it was a congener. The dog's master was hairy, stocky and an indefinable color: true color chart from beige to green-gray goose poop through the Yellow ocher. The gentleman was so close to us, silently observed the scene unfolding before him there, shifted his gaze towards the woods to finally put it on me.
"Hello sir? It is cool your dog, what breed like?" I like to talk to dog owners, we always learn things.
"Fffffrprout ..."
"A fart? I do not know. It is native to where?"
"Kekec mhpppffprou ..."
"Peru? Quebec? He's Canadian? And how it's called?"
"Pppet ... ..."
"Pet?"
"Mhm ... huh ... fart CJEI you?"
"My dog? Icarus great!"
"... uper? Ohmhm ...."
At this point our camera that gentleman's dog decided to relieve himself and a turd.
Her poop was orange salmon, pink trend is like a pouch of 45 laps of a group well known in the '70s. It looked like a sunset.
The gentleman looks at me, smiled and handed me a strip curtain : PPET the leaves.
And leave me standing there with Icarus who sniffs Pet and Pet that task of squatting to get back on its three legs. I look startled the man away to no ant. I call mine and am trying to follow the drag Icarus and Super Pet. The man turned towards us and I feel he wants me to wait there. I see him waving around a conteniteur / distributor poop bags, and it takes a while back on his feet slowly. Near us and poo pink PPET.
He looks at me, trying somehow to bend (it looked like a trombone or a tree branch or a chicken bone) and again laying eyes on me. It builds on those knees, and re-raises without being able to pick up the poop. Once I am right a very nice smile and handed me the bag and said his chin was unshaven pink elephant dung. He wants me to pick up pet droppings that whines because in the meantime my dog has tried to learn two or three small high-flying tricks and convince him to play leapfrog.
I manage to pick up the sun, despite the hyper-activity of Icarus. I just long to see the man who walks away and sent me a kiss with his trembling hand.
"Ayu ... m. .. her!"
Hi sir! I replied, still holding his hand the bag of poop PPET.
A weekend merdouille enough to tell you everything ...
Edit the end of the day: .... The more I think the more I tell myself that PPET was a mutant. I had to take his picture poop.
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