Not only did I humiliate myself in front of the Wilkins's, we barely made it to the end of the walk when Petunia lay down and refused to walk any further.
"Oh, no you don't," I said. "Up, young lady. We need to get out of here."
But she clearly had her dose of exercise for the day and wasn't going anywhere, her round belly heaving, pathetic pug face turned up to me like I should go on without her because she couldn't make it another step in the falling darkness.
I don't know if you've ever tried to carry a portly pug or not, but let me tell you, it's not a pleasant process. First, she was dead weight, and she wanted to lick me in thanks or to prove her ownership of my clearly pathetic self-esteem. And the farting. I can't even talk about the farting. No more cheese for her ever. I think
