A St. Bernard lives in my neighborhood.
If you’re a dog lover, or even if you can summon sufficient awe for a dog the size and width of a Harley-Davidson, you know that this is a rare and wonderful thing.
I take the long route home from work every evening, hoping to spot this dog.
And today, I did.
He was ambling from trash can to trash can, dragging his tiny owner behind him.
Finding a particularly aromatic specimen, the St. Bernard nudged his entire face inside, licking delightedly at sticky frozen pizza cardboard, hummus containers with a few garlicky swipes left, and Friday night’s Ben and Jerry’s pints (those had already been licked clean, strangely enough).
Not strong enough to push him away from the spoils, the owner stood and watched. I stood too, laughing.
At least you can ride him home if you get tired.