An extremely traumatic experience

Okay, so let me set the scene for you: It’s late in the evening after a big day and I’m kicking back on the couch watching some reality t.v.
It’s bucketing down with rain outside and I’m enjoying the warmth of my tea and the comfort of my blanket.

An ad break comes on and I realize that my dog is just outside the door barking for me to let him in (he was under cover, chill). I let him and he bolts through the house in excitement leaving a trail of wetness, mud and wet dog smell behind.

I feel a lil’ sorry for him so I wrap him in a towel and put him in the laundry room to dry off. Maybe a dog treat will calm him down? Oh look, an unopened bag of dog treats is on the counter, I’ll give him one of those. It’s one of those large, plastic, sachet-bags with a re-seal able opening. I open the bag and reach right in to pull out one of these ‘pork flavored treats’ boy, didn’t I know what I was getting myself intoImage.

So I get a hold of a piece. Feels normal, like a dry strip of bacon. I look down to see what I had just removed from the bag and it was THE MOTHERFUCKING FOOT OF A DEAD PIG. What kind of fuckery is this? I freak the fuck out and drop the treat, running out of the laundry. Once I’ve calmed down, I return to the laundry to take a picture, naturally.

I touched that.

Iheld it in my hand

I feel so so dirty.

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