Tuesday 29 July 2014

Clipping my ticket to crazy-town

He was tall, dark and looked like a candidate for NZ's Next Top Model. But tonight, as I dragged the Hound around the wet and dark streets of Mt Vic after work, I didn't notice him approaching us.

Until he was right next to me. And what was I doing? Singing a ridiculous song to Bristol that contained the catchy chorus: "Little puppy, it's almost time for a schmacko and your dish of My Dog*. Shall we walk faster you cute little poppet?"

Yeah, exactly. Mr Hottie  looked at me as though I had suffered a brick to the skull. In my embarrassment, I tried to make it better by humming loudly. As if that could undo the fruit-loop-in-training impression.

Right there folks, that's my future: walking the streets of Wellington with a sodden dog in tow, singing loudly to him/her.

I believe the term you are looking for is Nut Job.

The visual is, appropriately, the reason for today's embarrassment.

*My Dog - a brand of particularly foul smelling dog food that, inexplicably, Bristol adores more than walks or tummy rubs.

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