When I was a teenager we lived in the country so our dog Ben was pretty much always off the lead, and one day in late december I'd took him for a walk round the block, engineering it so I walked a few times past a house where a boy from school lived who I fancied (very subtle, I was. Not)
Anyway on walking past for the second time, a car pulled up with him and his mum in. I effected a casual wave and sidled over for a chat. Ben immediately stuck his snout in this guys crotch, we both tried to ignore it and shoo him away but he just wouldn't stop sniffing so eventually I had to drag him away by his collar. Mildly embarassing but thankfully the dog seemed to lose interest in us then and was sniffing at the side of their house.
Suddenly we smelt a horrible smell, looked down and Ben had positioned himself against the side of this guys house, and was doing a poo handstand style on his front paws against the wall. I have no idea why both his back legs were in the air, but at such closed range, and in the cold of the december air, the poo glued itself to the house like a mr whippy icecream.
I was mortified and tried to pull him away, only for the last piece of turd to roll down towards my foot. I tried to leap out of the way before it touched my shoe rather too theatrically, and managed to slip on an icy puddle and fell in the shit, winding myself.
Horrible. Just horrible.
Well needless to say we never quite got it together, I suppose the memory of my arse covered in orange dogshit didn't exactly float the poor guys boat.
What made it worse was that the mr whippy curly shit froze in the cold and stayed there on the lads wall for weeks like a giant stinking iced gem until I assume someone chiselled it off.
Bloody dog.