It all started when I decided that Diesel deserved a treat every time the Mets won. So after each Mets victory, since at least some time in the 2006 season, I'd declare "Mets win" and Diesel would run to where we keep his treats and sit impatiently waiting for his reward.
In the summer of 2006 while vacationing in Maine, Mrs. Poop's dad accidentally left the backdoor ajar while he was hanging wet trunks on the line in the backyard to dry. Before he knew it Diesel was sprinting across the street. After a few tries of "Diesel" and "come" failed to have the desired effect, a desperate Poppy yelled out "Mets win!" and Diesel came running.
By the time I got outside, Poppy was holding Diesel by the scruff of his neck and saying "thank God for the fuckin Mets."
Two and a half years later (and probably about 200 Mets' wins and "Mets Wins!" later) this most unusual command was needed again.
While Mrs. Poop and I slept after a night of work, Mama Poop was in charge of her grandkids. She was taking Chase outside for a walk, when Diesel barreled past her and out into the street.
Now I don't think he knows enough to look both ways, but he definitely knows to stay away from cars. He didn't try to run away, he just wanted to play. Mama Poop said he was having the time of his life running in the snow on the grassy median on the middle of our road. He was jumping, and running and rolling on his back in the snow.
But Mama Poop had a problem, a runaway dog and a crying baby and nothing she was doing to get Diesel back was working, until she remembered.
She screamed out "Let's Go Mets" and even though she got the words wrong, Diesel came running back.
So remember the advice I gave nearly two years ago: if you are ever taking care of Diesel and he should happen to run out the door, call "Mets win!" and he will come running back.
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