Max the Feeble

Max is feeble. Of course, he is twelve years old (or thereabouts), only weighs sixteen pounds, and has short weiner-dog legs. He never was a powerhouse. But two nights in a row now, when I put him out on my getting home from work, Max has gotten his rope caught on, get this... a tuft of grass, and was unable to pull himself free.

(five minute pause while Max licks me in the face. face licks from a weiner-dog will cure whatever ails you. what germs could survive stinky weiner-dog breath?)

In the past Max has gotten his rope stuck under the tires of my car and/or truck, caught it on chunks of ice in the winter, and even (with the help of the knot he somehow manages to tie in it) the stones of my planter. This grass tuft thing is completely new, though.