Max

  So me and Max, that is to say Max and I, went for our morning walk. Max? Oh, he's my dog. We have an on again off again relationship, and this morning, we were trying to beat the rain. Well I was, but as for Max, he was in a mischievous mood, and was in no particular hurry. Being a twice a day pooper and the fact that he hadn't pooped last night added to the urgency. 

Poor Max, I've had dogs all my life, but never one as aggravating as him. He's one of those designer dogs, when they mate one breed to another. A Puggle by name, a mix between a beagle and a pug. Take a dog obsessed with food, and one who likes to smell everything, and that sums it up. As for him, the struggle will continue for a while, as I know it isn't his fault. All of my prior dogs were Americans, that is to say they were mutts. A melting pot of a dog. Incredibly faithful, and looking only to please. Not that Max doesn't try in his way, he does, but his ways are so limited. Again in Max's defense, he is the first dog I had to walk. The others had yards and other freedoms. So anyway, here I am tethered to this dog in the rain, just wanting him to poop so we can get home before the skies opened up. We made it! Halleuia, and good times for me and Max and me.