A thoughtful dog: Redux

It's a wonderful morning indeed when Ben, who was recently elevated to near sainthood in the post, "A Thoughtful Dog,"
reminds me oh-so-gently that he is, in fact, a dog's dog:

We had a large walking group at the park this morning: Five people and three dogs, not counting a few itinerant canine fly-bys. Ben, Wally and Hishi (a new pal) seemed particularly enamored with one pine tree -- they spent minutes, no make that tens of minutes, closely sniffing the trunk and examining the ground around it. It WAS a study - grey, black and brindle heads tucked closely together as if beckoning some earthly phantasm from the tree's roots.

Ultimately, the spell was broken. There will always be bigger and better trees, rocks and trash cans to explore in a dog's world, I think. The three dogs loped up to us, almost smiling, like three mischievous little boys all in on the same secret.

On the second lap around, Ben revisited "the tree." This time, his stop was a little more purposeful. I looked over to see him daintily eating something on the ground.

"BEN! No park food!"

(I should explain here that Ben's gustatorial machinery doesn't always tolerate strange and exotic cuisine. Which most notably includes "park food."}

Ben cheerfully ignored me, clearly savoring his forbidden fruit. So, I headed in his direction, intent on a "park food" intervention. I fully expected to find my brilliant, beautiful dog wolfing down some ancient McDonald's french fries, a mound of soggy Cheetos, or remnants of someon's school lunch ditched in Comstock Park.

NO.SUCH.LUCK. Instead, Ben was methodically consuming the edge of a well-congealed pool of barf. The human variety. Monsieur, the Super Chunky style that you order? Eewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Mustering what dignity I had left after this revelation, I gathered Ben up and bade farewell to my walking companions. The dog was unapologetic.

I'm pretty sure I mentioned this to Brad when we got home. I know how he loves dog kisses in the morning.