At least it wasn’t a dog in a cage. Then we’d have to stone her to death.
“As the oldest son, Tagg Romney commandeered the way-back of the wagon, keeping his eyes fixed out the rear window, where he glimpsed the first sign of trouble. ‘’Dad!’’ he yelled. ‘’Gross!’’ A brown liquid was dripping down the back window, payback from an Irish setter who’d been riding on the roof in the wind for hours.
Mr. Romney responded to his dog’s defecation by “coolly” stopping at a gas station where he “borrowed a hose, washed down Seamus and the car, then hopped back onto the highway” with Seamus strapped back on the roof.”