HERE'S What I Think Of Your Prophylactic

Swarley pooped on a condom. There, I said it! I just ruined the whole punchline of the story, but I couldn't contain myself. We were out on our morning constitutional, heading for his favorite pooping spot. He likes to poop in a secluded corner of the complex behind some guy's boat, which is fine with me. He always looks so ashamed, crouched over, glancing around guiltily, I feel he's entitled to his privacy. So we're heading behind the boat, and old Swarles is tugging harder than usual, the way he does when he's caught the scent of a frog or a dead bird. If only! By the time I rounded the motor he was already on top of it. Apparently Swarley is not the only one who enjoys the seclusion of that little nook. Damn kids! Although I suppose at least they were safe. Damn litterbugs. As soon as I saw what it was I yanked the leash up to get his nose off the ground, horribly frightened that his tongue, which he routinely utilizes in sneak attacks on my face, was about to contract gonoherpesyphilitis, but he was way ahead of me. Calmly turning on the spot, Swarlos casually crouched and unloaded right on top of that bad boy, and surely it was my imagination, but for once he didn't look ashamed. I'm pretty meticulous about cleaning up after my dog, I even buy biodegradable doggie bags so I can be kind to both the complex and the Earth, but I wasn't touching that one. If you want that pile off your grass, Camden, you clean it up.