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Forrest Gump Takes a Dump
My ten-year-old daughter, Beth, got her own little dog for Christmas. The dog is ahybrid; it’s called a Malti-shit or a Shitzy-malt or something like that. We already had two perfectly good big dogs, but Beth had insisted she needed something little. Something she couldhold and baby. Not unlike Holly Hunter’s character in Raising Arizona when she says, “I needme a toddler, Hi.”So, Christmas morning, there was this little dog waiting in a kennel under the tree.Upon seeing it, Beth fell to her knees and tears streamed down her face as she announcedhow much she loved him, the dog, not Santa. Then we let the dog out of the cage and he ran andran. An uncle, a cousin or somebody yelled, “Run, Forrest, run,” and that’s how our high pricedlittle yap dog came to be called Forrest Gump.It was the real Forrest Gump who said, “Life is like a box of chocolates.”I’m a parent of four young kids. For me, life is not like a box of chocolates. For me, lifeis like a game of Chinese Checkers. Everyone wants to play, there are a million pieces on the board, and no one has a clue what the rules to the game actually are.Forrest Gump is the first dog we have ever paid for. Well, except for my wife’s bassethound she got right before we started dating. That basset hound truly was Forrest Gump. If you
 
were outside and took your hands off it, the thing would start running and all you saw was hislow slung ass and floppy ears bouncing inches above the pavement as he dashed from sight. In astraight line. I’m not real sure about that dog’s blood line. Bethany was financing it from ashopping mall pet store. You just can’t make this kind of stuff up. Bethany was paying tendollars a week for that dumb dog. I’m not sure what this says about Bethany’s frame of mindabout the time we started dating and, quite frankly, I don’t want to spend too much timeanalyzing it.Our Forrest Gump is not that kind of runner. He runs in circles, not straight lines, andnever gets too far from home, food, or my daughter.We’re house training Forrest, and I find myself spending a lot of time with him in the back yard. Our other dogs are perfectly capable of going to the bathroom by themselves. Not our Forrest. When nature calls for him, someone has to supervise.The back of our house is mostly glass and it is not unlike looking in a fishbowl. So as Istand there with Forrest, I can see one of my children suffering some type of slight at one end of the house, then running through the house screaming “Momma,” finding his mother hiding at theother end of the house, explaining the slight with great exaggeration and arm gestures, beforegetting dismissed by their mother when she realizes no one is bleeding or unconscious. Then theslightee will march all the way back through the house to the scene of the slight and inform theslighter that Mom said he or she is in “BIG TROUBLE” if they do it again.Forrest doesn’t seem that interested in what’s happening in the house. He’s too busysniffing the grass, trying to get off the big, wet leaf that covers his whole face, or munching on
 
one of his own little turds. Yes, with our high priced dog, yesterday’s dump becomes today’s breakfast burrito.Forrest is not much of a watch dog, either. One evening a cat walked between where Iwas standing and Forrest was sniffing. Forrest never saw the cat. A high school marching bandcould have trooped through my backyard between us and Forrest would not have noticed.While his lookout skills can use a little help, Forrest’s bark is something he employs quitefrequently. It’s a little yap, like you’d expect from such a small thing. To see him use it, you getthe distinct impression he clearly doesn’t understand how little he is. He just yaps and yaps, thenlooks at you like he’s confused because you’re not cowering in sheer terror. Unless Forrest gets amegaphone, some serious platform shoes, and overdoses on Luther Vandross pills, that bark willnever be ferocious. You simply can’t pull ferocious off from that pitch, that altitude or thatvolume. It would be like Sweden picking on Germany. It’s cute, you know, as long as no onetakes it too far.And it remains to be seen how far Forrest will take it. Forrest is seriously playing theattitude game with Molly, one of our other dogs. Molly will be lying in the grass and Forrest willdecide to drop some gastric luggage right beside her. It has to be showmanship. Got an acre of grass back there and Forrest feels the need to make his bodily deposit within mere inches of Molly’s head. As a guy, I’m sure Forrest is saying “Let me show that old mutt who’s boss. I’mgonna take this big, stinking dump right in her face. Uuuuggghhh! Oh yeah, bitch! Smell that!Take that!”
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