Dec 22, 2014
Darcy Parsons was my roommate in New York city a million years ago. She had a dog named, Moose. If you took him for a walk, he did not like to go to the bathroom in a nice quiet grassy knoll. He waited, no matter how much pain he was in, holding it. Then when he got to a spot, like say, the doorway to a bodega where hundreds of people were walking in and out. That would be the moment he would choose to explode a huge number 2 in the middle of everyone's pathway. He was as big as a horse, so his number 2 was the size of a cake. Plus in those days you didn't have to pick up after your dog, so you could just walk away and leave it. Such fond memories.