Puppy Play

Thank God I picked this beautiful, soggy day to do an outdoor photoshoot.  Especially one where I'm being pulled around in the fucking mud by a 110 pound furry monster.  I'm so dedicated to my fans it's truly unreal.  There's a special kind of charm that Chicago has when it's been raining for the past week.  By charm, I mean it's sort of like Chicago's dead in the eyes, a feeling I'm getting quite used to.  Today in Peacoats and Poppers I thought I'd take you behind the scenes with one of my side jobs.  How do you think I can afford all that fun?  Work?  Well, no.  My parents, duh.  That's another story.  But how do you think I afford that Five Guys I had for lunch?  Dog walking!  

Lemme introduce you to my co-star in this weeks Peacoats and Poppers.  His name is Mo and he's a 1 year old Bernese Mountain Dog, so cute.  He's a sweet heart, loves gnawing on my hands when I'm putting his leash on, and he's such a handsome boy I knew I had to feature him on the blog.  Definitely one of my faves.  Of course no dog walk that I do is complete without some weird shit happening (as you'll hear below).  Can I just say, I HATE businesses who leave dog treats out front of their doors.  Like, I get it, you want to be cutesy and dog friendly blah blah whatever, but these dogs go NUTS for these treats and try to eat the whole bowl.  I had to drag Mo away from it, he was inconsolable.  The owner came out and had the nerve to snap at me and say "MAKE HIM SIT!"  UM…. Ma'am… A. You're fucking fault B. I don't want him to sit I want him to literally do the opposite of sit and come with me and C. Tell me what to do                      ONE. MORE. TIME.  

In the interest of keeping my job I won't say who I work for, but I WILL say if you have a dog and need it walked but want it walked by somebody who knows how to PARTY then hmu.  Although, after you read these stories you might not want me too.  I'll say this for myself though, I take no responsibility for the weird shit that happens to me when I walk these pooches.  It's just my luck that I get a French Bulldog who tries to eat every single thing on the street including other dog shit and I have to bear down and dig it out of his mouth.  Or a Golden Retriever who throws up all over my nice jacket.  Or a lab that lays down in the middle of the street and won't budge, even as we are honked at by at least 5 cars that have to drive around us.  Dog walking is fun!  (P.S. I really am good with dogs, I swear…)

By far one of my favorite experiences walking these dogs (and I say favorite with vigorous sarcasm) is with these two dogs Marley and Brennan.  My journey with these two started a while before I actually ended up walking them.  They kept popping up with walk requests practically every night.  It would show up like this "7:00 walk needed.  7:30 walk needed.  8:00 walk needed.  8:30 walk needed."  Basically nobody wanted to walk them.  My friend Alissa and I thought it was because their profile picture looked like the dog from the Ghostbusters movie (Google for reference), but oh, how blind we were.  One night we decided, why not, let's walk them!  When we showed up to the house the door was unlocked (normally the houses are locked with a key in a lock box), and the house was empty.  Like bizarrely empty.  Like a couch and a picture on the wall and that's it.  The dogs were big dogs, pitbull mutts of some sort, idk but there was only one leash.  After standing in the house for a few minutes wondering what to do, this girl holding an empty wine glass stumbles down the stairs and barks at me "Oh, it's you.  I only have one leash so walk one of them for 15 minutes and the other for 15 minutes k thnx."  And back upstairs she went.  Okayyyyyyy.  Thanks to Alissa the walk went somewhat ok, even though these dogs pull like crazy.  The next time I walked Marley and Brennan it was by myself however.  I thought, "maybe it won't be so bad!"  When I showed up to the house the girl opened the door at the same time as me and looked stunned.  "I forgot I ordered you," she said, "Thank God because I didn't want to walk them anyway."  Smelling like vodka she shoved the leashes in my face and slammed the door.  At least she got a second leash.  Walking these two dogs together almost pulled my fucking arms outta their sockets in different directions.  Never again.  Never.  Marley and Brennan, if you're out there,  I'm thinking of you and I'm sorry you have such a garbage owner but I'll never ever see you again.  

My most traumatic dog walk however came one sunny Thursday in September.  I was new to walking dogs and hadn't done many yet, so when a walk popped up in Wicker Park, a good 5-6 miles away from me and a neighborhood where I have no clue where anything is (I've since learned my lesson) I thought, "Great, lemme make an extra buck or two!"  I headed down there with about 30% battery life on my phone to do an hour walk with a 1 year old Great Dane.  Good thing I had so much battery life because we definitely spent a good 25 minutes sitting in the house, him barking at me, and running around every time I tried to clip the collar on him.  Now the collar is very important, just a run of the mill, regular buckled up collar.  Remember that.  By the time we got out onto the walk my phone was dead.  I was in an area I'd never been to in my life, but the walk was going well.  He was pulling a bit but the weather was nice so no complaints.  Suddenly the collar snapped off and he bolted.  I chased this mother fucker down for FOURTEEN BLOCKS.  Weeping.  Sprinting.  Throwing treats at him.  Screaming for somebody to grab him.  Meanwhile this little ass hole keeps running a bit and then turning around and looking at me with this dumb grin that was like "oh isn't this fun??"  Just picture that will you.  My backpack swinging around, sweat and tears streaming down my face, my loose American Eagle jeans about to fall off.  I can say with certainty that even with all the trashy and dumb things I've been through in 2016, this, this was my lowest moment.  Shoutout to the literal ANGEL who helped me corner him, gave me an extra leash that she had to secure him AND gave me a phone charger so I could charge my phone.  I swear that I'm not a bad dog walker.  I SWEAR. 

I always wanted a dog growing up but that pipe dream was consistently shot down by mommie dearest.  Which now, as an adult, I understand.  I was a nightmare kid on my own, let alone throw a sloppy dog into the mix, and our Restoration Hardware dream home would crumble.  I overcame my dog-less life with other pets.  One fun cat who runs into walls and can open doors, one mean cat who hissed at everything and swelled with hatred (RIP Faline), and multiple hermit crabs from the Jersey Shore (two of which committed suicide and I'm being 100% serious).  It seemed hopeless that we'd ever be a dog family, that was, until, the summer after I graduated college.  I don't think that little Bichon Frise-Poodle mix puppy ever thought that her future would come down to 4 adults downing 2 pitchers of margaritas but low and behold here we are.  We own a dog named Margarita, called Rita for short.  Best drunk purchase we ever made.  You can catch her on my Instagram or on my mom's Facebook page dressed in a wide array of costumes.                   Check this bitch out!

When going on dog walks remember to always wear dark colors.  That way it's easier to sneak around your clients houses and go thru their stuff!  I'd never steal anything, of course, but I like to get an idea of the person and put together a little backstory for them in my head.  It's fun!  For example:  Kristie has a lot of pictures in her room with this blonde girl, but I wonder if blondie has the same amount of pictures of Kristie in her room?  Is the friendship reciprocated?  Anyway, I'll give you a little run down of this outfit (if you even care, which I don't, particularly).  The sweatshirt is Express, which I always have a hard time not walking out of that store looking like a Ukrainian frat bro.  Sometimes I get a little stuck in 2007.  The jacket and shoes are Banana and there's about 4 or 5 layers of grime on those shoes, but you can only kinda see 1 in these pictures.  The jacket is V letterman's jacket, which is about as sporty as I can be.  The hat is somebody else's.  That's all I'll say.  The scarf is my mom's and it's probably the worst scarf I own.  There ya go!  Aren't I such a fashionista?!  Hope you enjoyed this post and I hope it gave you something to smile about before we all plunge into a deep dark despair this Friday!  Yay America!

May your buttons be as loose as your butt hole, 

Love, Peacoats and Poppers

 pics by Dean Daneluzzi

pics by Dean Daneluzzi