My name is Nicole and my 160 pound mastiff/lab mix Tazz died at 16 years old last January. He was that dog that no other could ever live up too for me. A real character.  So one day when he was about 11 we took him to a small unpopular  campground lake to play.  The only people at the beach were us and  8 or 9 boy scouts playing 30 yards away in 1-2 feet of water.  The boy scouts looked young, there were two women standing on the beach looking rather irritated.   

Tazz ran down into the water splashed around a little bit when all of a sudden he took off toward the boy scouts.  They were happy to see him until right there in 2 feet of water boy scouts circled around him, he shits.  A LOT, 160 pound dog shits, with a enough diarrhea to make it impossible to get out clean.  Now those women's mild irritation turned into red faced monsters. Ohh if looks could kill. I was so embarrassed.   Tazz had a way of doing just the wrong thing but he made me laugh, and he left me with hundreds of funny memories, and terrible stink in my car.