Goose the Mastiff
It was winter and I had a house on the New Jersey coast. It was an excellent escape from the city of NY for the weekends and my buddy happened to have some issues with his wife and he ended up living there full time as a break from her being an absolute psycho.

He had a dog named Forrest, a chocolate lab and I had a 2 year old Mastiff named Goose.

The two were great friends, however, the labs propensity to swim was not replicated in the Mastiff. So while Forrest swam, Goose wandered the beach and sought out more terrestrial pleasures.

So one Friday night, my buddy and I have a case of beer, a bottle of scotch, some squid (for bait) and some fishing gear and we head down to the beach, cutting the dogs loose and enjoying a little fishing...combined with ALOT of drunkeness.

So Goose is frequently well down the beach, but the drunken yell brings him trotting along. He seemed fascinated with something just south of us, but my angry drunken yells would bring him running along.

So fast forward about 3 or 4 hours (and ALL the beer) later, we head back to my monster home on the beach.

Whilst filleting the fish we caught in the kitchen (it is about 3 in the morning) Goose comes in whimpering. Not understanding what it is, I looked at him and said "I dont know what you want buddy?! You CANT have to go to the bathroom, do you?"

At that the emergency pinching nerves on his barking spider cut loose and the ENTIRE kitchen floor has an 1/8th inch thick coating of sea water, dog dookie, pieces of horseshoe crabs and fish parts.

It took me 7 towels, the great big kind you use on the beach, to clean up the 'fluids'. But NOT before I added my own contribution to the kitchen lake.
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Fri 22 Jun 2007, 22:33, Reply)