My parent’s hounds are on steroids, Dianobol, Decanol, some kind of bol for sure. If they aren’t ingesting some kind of doggy growth hormone then they’ve been spending far too much time hitting the weights because last night we witnessed super dog strength.

Picture this, a hot muggy night; the Wife is dressed in heels and evening attire piloting 170 combined pounds of dog. I’m riding shotgun armed with a plastic bag full of nasty stuff. We round the corner, casa de Parents easily within our grasp. We could smell how close the house is, if not for the plastic bag. After a brutal half mile struggle the only thing on my mind is ditching the bag and collapsing in bed.

Now the real wrinkle; there’s a dog right in front of my parents house, chilling with its owners. Curious, the hounds of hell dash across the road, hauling the Wife in her traction free high heels behind them. The third dog freezes, paralyzed at the sight of the flying beasts.

Just as the hounds reach terminal velocity and leap from the street up onto the curb, the choke chain that connects the two dogs on a single leash catches on a metal Stop sign post, halting the dogs mid stride. This solves the immediate problem of the hounds eating the third dog, only now we have 170 pounds of dog wrapped around a Stop sign. Eventually we untangle them and everyone goes home unhurt.

But tragically, there was one assault victim last night, for the sign post is now the Leaning Tower of Pisa.