More Embarrassing Moments

• We participated in a Bring Your Dog to the Ballpark event at Shea Stadium for a NY Mets game. It was a fundraiser for the North Shore Animal League. My husband and I, two friends, and our two Labs attended. Prior to the game, everyone was invited to walk around the outskirts of the field with their dogs. The second our black Lab, Elvis, saw the beautiful green grass he pulled with all his strength to go and christen the field with a giant poop. The heckling from the fans was merciless. As we rounded the field, we were passing the visiting team’s dugout (the Braves) and our second Lab, Bay, took an enormous poop right in front of the players, to the delight of all Mets fans in view. Needless to say, we have never gone to another game with our dogs.—Barbara Rodriguez

• Wally the Schnoodle fancies himself as a ferocious watchdog. Anyone who walks down his street without permission or who, horror of horrors, should come to his door, is given the Royal Whatfor—from the comfort of his wingback chair at the living room window. On one occasion, the doorbell rang and Wally launched into his usual barking tirade. As I was opening the door, having lost patience with the junkyard dawg wannabe, I bellowed “Oh, Wally, shut up!” only to be met face to embarrassed face with the courier delivery man, the nametag “Wally” on his uniform.—Fraser Petrick

• Our Afghan Hound, Beau, was prone to bouts of diarrhea. I had just bathed him after yet another episode. I took him in the kitchen to dry his hair with a hair dryer. I was kneeling on the floor and as I lifted his tail to dry underneath, it was like pulling the lever of a slot machine. Diarrhea shot out and landed on the legs of my jeans. Without thinking, I let out a scream and pulled my pants off. It was then that I remembered that the window curtains facing the street were pulled open and I was on full display. I dropped to the floor and yelled for my husband to save me by coming to close the curtains.—Sharon Galanis

• I invited some friends over to watch the San Francisco Giants vs. Texas Rangers World Series Game 3 at my house. With a total of five guests in tow, my boyfriend and I proceed down the hallway only to find granny panties and dental-floss thongs strewn all over. I was completely embarrassed, but mostly mortified by 1) how many panties were laying out and 2) the condition they were in. My granny panties had become crotch-less panties and my thongs looked like shredded ribbon. Turns out my boyfriend forgot to close the door to our closet and, since my hamper is the collapsible type, my two Doxies jumped the hamper and went to town. Game 3 was a loss for the Giants, so to this day all the guests remember is that my dogs scattered my panties all over the living room. One even jokingly remarked that it was because of my butchered Rally thong that we lost Game 3 of the World Series. Sad, but true.—NP

• Moon, my tri Sheltie, worked with me at a small nursing home. She loved to play with the resident cat. One day during mass, we heard a strange sound, like someone strangling. We ran to the chapel thinking a resident was choking only to see the dog and cat sharing in Holy Communion! Moon would run around the table, pause to bark, and the cat would throw a host on the floor for her to eat. It was “one for me, one for Moon.” The priest was frozen, mouth open, in total horror, drawing in strangled breaths, and wheezing out, “Caaaaaat ….. doooooooog ….. caaaaaaat ….. dooooooog……” The residents were laughing so hard that tears were on many cheeks. Fortunately, I did not lose my job—or my dog—but from then on, when the priest was in the building, the dog and cat were in lock-up.—Jane McLaren