So I was at the store earlier today with my service dog.
The woman in front of me at checkout had a mountain of toilet paper—easily $200 worth—crammed into her cart. She looked back at me with this holier-than-thou expression and asked, “What kind of dog is that?”
I smiled and said, “He’s my service dog.”
With a roll of her eyes and a huff, she snapped, “I know that. What kind of service?”
By this point, my dog had trotted over and was happily licking her hands and trying to nuzzle her face.
I looked her dead in the eye and said, “He’s a BLD.”
She blinked. “A BLD? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“B*tt Licking Dog,” I replied.
She recoiled. “B*tt Licking Dog?!”
I nodded. “Yep. Trained to clean me up—because it’s hard to find toilet paper these days, thanks to hoarders.”
The cashier? She absolutely lost it—tears streaming, doubled over, laughing.