It was Friday. It was after work. And it was sunny, which in Seattle one must never waste. So, I bundled up the dogs and headed out lovely walk in the sun.
If only I had known…
We meandered for a few miles, heading to a small, hidden public park near Lake Forest Park that has a dock on Lake Washington. It provided a nice bench for me to rest and some warm places for Sage and Ottis sunbathed while they watched the ducks. So far, so good.
As the sun began to set, the pups and I yawned, stretched
and gathered ourselves for the long walk home.
And that’s when things started to go… a bit downhill.
About a mile away from the car, Sage decided she wanted to be carried.
So, in my shirt she went!
But with the pressure of Sage on my tummy, I quickly realized I had to pee.
Like, a lot.
So, there I was, shuffling along with a 15lb dog in my shirt and a bursting bladder. I had at least half a mile still to go at this point. And I quickly realized… I wasn’t going to make it.
It was one of those moments in life when, in full desperation, you start to consider otherwise completely inconceivable solutions. Such as, dropping trou right on the Burke-Gilman Trail in broad daylight, amidst a stream of commuter bicyclists. I won’t lie. It crossed my mind.
I squeezed my thighs tight and picked up my pace.
Finally my car came into sight, but I knew there was no way I could make it all the way home. This dam was about to burst. So, I did what any self-respecting woman would do, if she had a brand new car and didn’t want to christen it with a puddle of urine. I shuffled the dogs into the car, ran to the passenger side, threw open both the doors, positioned myself between them, dropped my pants… and peed.
Right then. Right there. And a little bit on my foot too.
I’ve never felt better in my life.