Walking Meatball

Maddie and I just returned from a walk on which our neighbor dog, Meatball, joined us. We had stopped to say hello to our neighbor Tom and his sons and there was Meatball, standing in the door waiting for us to say hello to him, too. So we did and I got the idea that he should come along on our walk. This could have been done out of the goodness of my heart, and was, mostly, but I must admit, I did have an ulterior motive - my own entertainment.

Meatball is one of those creatures who have such a disagreeable mug, it makes him adorable. He is a bulldog, hugely overweight, with a lower jaw that juts forth to an incredible angle, and tan fur with an odd white spot on the back (not a circle, not a square, just a sort of random blop). He waddles rather then walks, and makes grunting noises, so if he is ahead of you, which he is, you can convince yourself you are actually walking a pig, a pig that stops to pee on every single vertical surface he sees. His neck is so thick, it reminds me of a log. He has giant paws; he could be a camel from the ankles down. He is not particularly friendly, nor is he mean. I think he is just wrapped up in getting each step accomplished, breathing hard, probably wishing for a nice hunk of ham and a nap. He charmed a two-year-old we saw on the way and gave a man who lives down the street a hearty laugh.

As we were walking I was reminded of a very funny thing I saw years ago. My friend Stella and I were standing out in front of her parents' house one afternoon when two young girls and a little boy came down the block walking a daschaund on a leash. This dog was by far the largest of its breed I have ever seen - her stomach dragged along the sidewalk as she walked, her short little legs keeping her close to the ground in the best of circumstances anyway, but the size of her stomach certainly making it impossible for her to walk with any kind of comfort. That was most likely why she was hesitating so much and the kids were having a hard time coaxing her along. It was also most likely why they were carrying a slice of cheese with them, holding it in front of her, just out of reach, so that she would be motivated to continue the walk. It was such a funny and ironic sight, that at least 15 years have passed since then and I've never forgotten it.

The man with the hearty laugh, when he found out Meatball's name, said, "He sure looks like he's eaten a lot of meatballs!" Hmmm. I'll bet Meatball's never heard that one before!

P.S. Go to Google images and type in "Ugly Dog Breed." But don't do it too close to bedtime.