This summer a huge pile of dog s$!t saved my life.
I babysat for my daughter and her husband while they attended a wedding. Their two kids were wonderful. Their huge English Bulldog was not. He rolled over to my car hunched up near the front door and took a huge dump. Great…now I know that when they return I will not remember the poo.
Sure enough, five hours later, I step in the pile. So, I sat on the front seat and cleaned my shoe with a napkin. I am too tired to walk back to the house. I am so mad that I throw the napkin in their yard (passive-aggressive much?) and decide to drive home. I don’t want to smell the poo, so I roll crack the front windows. This means I must also turn off the radio because I hate the cavitation effect.
I made it about three miles when I noticed a smell (other than the poo). It was so dark I really could not see anything. I slowed, sloooweed, then started forward. I really notice a smell of fuel and brakes. I was the first person on the scene of a fatal accident. Drunk driver was mad the accident had occurred. My best estimate is that in the time that I wasted cleaning my shoe the accident was occurring. I would have been in that exact spot but for a poo.
There is a lot more to the story. But…when they say “S$!t happens” I want to add “for a reason.”
As an aside, I went back the next day and kissed that big ole slobbery bulldog right in the mouth.