I spotted the slice on the ground, outside the Southern Jamaica Plain Health Center, but assumed I’d have time to grab it before Arlo did. But in one fell swoop he scooped it up, like he’d been born knowing that if you have to quickly grab a piece of pizza on the run, you always grab it by the crust. It was downright athletic. Of course, then he went into defensive posture, giving me looks like, “Mofo, if you try to take THIS from me, I will bite you. I don’t care whose mama you are. Do you see the size of this piece of pizza???”
I sure did. Since it was practically the size of his whole body, I did not want Arlo ingesting this thing. So I decided to go to battle. First I grabbed and tore at it, getting decent chunks. Meanwhile, he’s trying to gulp the whole thing down, or what was remaining, without even chewing. Time was of the essence, and I didn’t have a single treat on me to try to barter. (Continue for 2 more photos…)
So I started walking briskly knowing he wouldn’t be able to eat and walk at the same time. Though I’ve never taken my car to West Cork Auto a couple blocks down on Centre Street, I remembered someone telling me that Patrick, the owner, loves dogs and gives out biscuits. So I ran with Arlo into West Cork, and leaned into the office, saying, “I have a weird question….”
Turns out Patrick was all out of treats, but he still had the bag, and there was a crumb left. So I brought the bag up to Arlo’s face, and sure enough he dropped the remaining big chunk of pizza long enough for me to grab it! Victory! Poor guy, it really was the score of his life, and other than a couple small bites he had to trade it for a biscuit crumb. Doesn’t seem fair, now does it. Ain’t that life.