Dogs are gross!

On Wednesday, Sam and I took our morning walk with the dog.  Our neighborhood is quiet enough that he is able to go off leash as we walk, so that's what we did.  We meandered through local neighborhood streets and came to the top of "rock hill" where we went sledding a few weeks ago.  We cut through the hill and took a smaller circular route through the neighborhood, again coming to the top of the hill.  It was on the second romp over this grassy hill that we had trouble.

Sam and I got to the bottom of the small hill ok, but Zack wouldn't come.  I called and called.  And then I saw it.  The dreaded doggy sniff, drop, and rub.  He had found something nasty to roll around in; all that heavenly stink to bring home with him.

We spent the next two days telling Zack to go lay down on his pillow.  We didn't want him anywhere near us.

Then today, Sam and I decided to follow the same route.  On the way down that hill, I decided to keep Zack on the leash and see if I could find the source of the stink.  At first, I didn't see it.  That's because it had been moved down to the bottom of the hill.

It

was

a

nasty, stinky, eeewwwy, gross, fleshy, rotting, innards-missing but complete skeleton containing, decomposing, dead, possum with its tongue hanging out.