High Ride on A Port-A-Potty — With Shaggy Dogs

Charlotte Herzele tell us this pop story was sent by her tennis buddy, Diane Singleton. The author is not known.

Me and the girls (dogs) my packhiking sammies and my min-pin, who could be the first packhiking min-pin ever) have seen some incredible things when we go packhiking. The story is somewhat graphic in nature, so I’ve left a lot of that kind of stuff out. Use your own imagination.

We were hoofing it through the Cleveland metro parks with about two miles left on our ten mile hike, and we came up to a picnic pavilion area. Off to the left were several portable toilets, Port-A Potties, and one was being used in a very unusual fashion. There was some sort of training cart parked next to the porta potty, with four Siberian husky-malamute looking dogs in harnesses, all hooked to one gang line (I think that is what it is called).

The gang line was probably 20 feet long, and went directly into the door of the porta potty. The dogs were not hooked to the training cart at all, so it appeared they were out on a port o’ let sled riding mission. I can only assume there was no way to anchor the cart and dogs while the driver was taking care of business, so she got the brilliant idea to just take the gang line into the Porta potty and hold on to the dogs while she accomplished her goal.

You are probably thinking the exact same thoughts I was when I saw this little set up and recipe for disaster. And of course this story wouldn’t really be worth typing if it ended with the woman coming out and driving off with her dogs into the sunset.

I am fishing for my digital camera to take a picture of the Porta potty-pulling team when my dogs yank their leashes, almost toppling me over. A squirrel has decided to stop nearby, pick up a nut and chow it while my three dogs watch. So far the four sled dogs haven’t seen the squirrel, but it is only a matter of time, as my dogs are doing the “If I wasn’t on this leash I would kick that squirrel’s a##” dance.

Sure enough, the potty pullers’ heads all snap to the direction of the squirrel, and they all appear to get the same idea as my three straining at their leashes. My dogs see those dogs spot the squirrel, and some sort of dog tribal hunting nonverbal communication thing happens, as every one of the seven dogs on either end of the field realizes that its pretty much a race to see which of the two groups can get to the squirrel faster. My dogs redouble their pulling efforts, and the four dog sled team reacted as one, and lunged full steam for the squirrel.

The porta potty sort of spins about 30 degrees and rocks like the dickens. Luckily, it doesn’t tip over, but kind of rocks back and forth a time or two and then rights itself. Well, that is just unacceptable to the sled team, and they give another huge yank. The Porta potty spins yet again, and from inside some sort of human screech occurs.

The screech seemed to slow the sled dogs down and they settled into a nervous stand. At this point the squirrel decided the dogs weren’t going to get him so he started doing some kind of “na,na,na can’t get me” dance, infuriating the porta potty pullers. If you ever wondered why dog sleds are built long and low to the ground, as opposed to small and tall, like, say — the shape of a porta potty, you need no longer wonder if this is a design flaw.

Anyhow, the pulling and barking started up again. The porta potty did its best to stay standing, rocking heavily back and forth. The dogs, sensing victory, forgot completely about the squirrel, and started timing their pulls with the rocking, and of course triumphantly gave one last tug and yanked the Porta potty over. For some reason, they just stopped pulling after the port potty settled on the ground.

(I’m not sure what happened to the squirrel at this point, although if he was anything like that insurance commercial where the two squirrels make the car wreck and high five each other, then my guess is he ran off into the woods to get his friends so he could show them what he’d accomplished.)

From the porta potty came a series of cuss words unrepeatable in this story, so I figured I’d better see if I could help. The porta potty unfortunately had landed face down, meaning the door was now the bottom.

I tied my dogs to a tree, and ventured toward the port o let. I asked if the occupant was OK. She said yes, in a lot more colorful and verbal way than just yes, but for the purposes of this story we’ll just say she said yes.

The porta potty hadn’t fared as well. You could tell it was hurt because there was a lot of blue fluid leaking from it. I told the woman that I would have to roll the porta potty on its side to get the door open and she should find something to hang on to. Well a couple good shoves later, the thing rolled 90 degrees and the door was exposed.

The door opened and out crawled a blue mama smurf, covered with the blue blood of the dying porta potty. Her dogs came running and decided she needed a bath. About this point she realized that step 10 in the bathroom process entitled “put your pants back on” had been skipped, so she disappeared back into the porta potty.

Well, she was in absolutely no mood to talk about her ride on the wild side, which I didn’t blame her, so she got the short version of what had happened outside and I spared her the indignity of having to recite what happened from inside. I helped her hook her dogs back up to the cart-looking thing, and off she went, glowing blue as she went drove down the path and back into the woods.

I can’t imagine what all the other visitors thought as they walked serenely through the park and were passed by a pissed off blue smurf and her merry band of blue-tongued dogs.

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