Yesterday, Iwanski and I took a long walk along Chicago’s lakefront. We were just walking along, enjoying the sun and the warm weather along with many other adults, and their children and their dogs, when of a sudden it hit me: I think dog balls are one of the most disgusting things on earth. And I really think they should be banned from public view. Really! I mean, why should I be forced to look at those things? And it’s not like I’m out there scouting for dog balls, either—they’re just out there, in the open, flapping in the breeze, in plain view of all who pass them. There’s no way to avoid it—you look to the right, there’s dog balls. You look to the left, dog balls. You look straight in front of you, and—you guessed it—dog balls.
I think it should be a law that male dogs should have to wear special doggie underwear—or at the very least, a dog jock strap (aka “dog strap”). Really. I don’t think that it’s fair that I should have to bask in the glow of that nasty view when I’m having a nice walk along Chicago’s beautiful lakefront.
And how about neutering your dog? Would it be that difficult? Do you really have that strong a need to see your dog reproduce? I mean, last I checked, there are no shortage of dogs on this earth. Really, you don’t think there are enough stray male dogs roaming around, nailing stray female dogs? I’m sure it happens—right?
Yep, I feel this strongly about dog balls.
But enough about that.
As Iwanski and I continued on our walk, I saw a feather lying on the ground in front of us. I may not have mentioned this before, but for a long time, feathers have been my symbol of God. Whenever I see one, I say a silent prayer, thanking God for being there for me. And I see feathers ALL THE TIME. Some people may think it’s just a coincidence, but I don’t. I really believe that God gives me feathers as a reminder that he’s there. Also, we have a lot of pigeons and seagulls in Chicago. But that’s beside the point.
Anyway, Iwanski and I were walking along, talking about how God reveals himself in our lives. I said to Iwanski,
“You know, I never see feathers when I’m looking for them. But when I’m not looking for them, all of the sudden they’re there, right in front of me as I walk.”
Just like dirty, nasty dog balls.