My dog was born on 8/8/98, and is 14 years old today. She's always been a fan of two wheelers. I wouldn't have named her Angel, or even chosen a foofoo dog, but sometimes Allah drops a peach in your lap.
A few months ago while on our bike commute, I reached down to scoop her up onto the bike and heard my pants rip. Some nice lady at a stoplight mentioned that my pants looked ripped. But when I got to work, they were more like chaps. Guess work slacks ain't made for bicycle commuting, if you're a chubster. Thank god I'm a habitual underwear wearer.
It was a pretty chilly ride back home for me, but another nice thing about dogs is they're never embarrassed to be seen with you, even under such conditions.
Last edited by calamarichris; 08-08-12 at 09:53 AM.
She's pretty good. One time I got deathly ill after eating something depraved at a Leucadia street fair one Friday night. I was spewing from both ends and was too sick to take her out for a walk for the entire weekend. But when I finally got well enough to go out, I found a pile of junkmail I'd dropped on the floor Friday night, and she'd pooped & peed on that all weekend instead of the carpet.