MAN'S BEST FRIEND?

  Now a few words about dogs and the assholes that own them:

  I grow weary of the morons who walk around the neighborhood with a straining mutt in one hand and an old Krogers plastic bag in the other.  When their dog graces your yard with its steaming pile of shit, they proudly pick it up in the wafer thin Kroger bag and act like they are the greatest neighbors in the world.  For what, getting some of your mutt’s shit off my lawn.  Because I guarantee that you didn’t get it all.  At the very least there are still shit bits and shit juice remaining on my lawn.  If you dog owners dispute that, then prove it is not so by bending down where you triumphantly cleaned up and put a blade of grass in your mouth.  Hah!  And what about your asshole dog pissing on my lawn.  What good is your Kroger bag then.  Let your dog shit and piss in your own yard.

 I also want to kick the crotch of the dog owners who walk their beloved mutt around town on a leash, but don’t actually hold the leash.  The dog walks scot free about twenty yards in front of the proud owner who just knows his dog is so well behaved that he couldn’t go dog and bite you or chase a petrified cat/squirrel up a tree.  And, if this perfect dog happens to come toward you and you react with concern, the owner gets miffed and in a weary voice informs you, “He won’t bite,” like he and his dog talked things over prior to the walk.  I don’t care how great you think your pooch is, keep it on a leash when you venture out into public.

 I live in a regular suburban neighborhood, small fenced in backyards.  I don’t really get having one dog in such an environment, but why multiple mutts?  I had a neighbor, recently moved and fouling another community, who had four dogs penned in his thirty foot by fifty foot backyard.  One dog is a menace to fresh air and quiet, but multiple mutts indicates a lack of consideration on the part of the owner.

   Same neighborhood scenario.  You let your dog out and he barks.  Not a solo “Oh my God is that a squirrel running through my backyard” bark, but a series of “I am an asshole dog that doesn’t know any better” barks.  We have a dog in the area that punctuates the quiet with a ten minute barrage so steady that you would swear he is using a metronome.  If I didn’t hate him so damn much, I might admire his timing and stamina.

   

   I understand that these may not be popular gripes, but I defy you to take umbrage with any of them.  Go ahead.

Cheers! Jim

PS  In all fairness, I must point out that I was bitten by a dog about three years ago.  I was rollerblading in the street and passing by a house with four kids playing in the yard.  As I passed, I heard one kid shout, “Spike”.  I turned my head just in time to see “Spike” bolt through the open side door of the house and make a beeline for me.  I am pretty decent on the rollerblades, but I was not getting away from this dark, growling bullet.    Spike (yes, that was his real name, no changing the names to protect in this blog) missed me on his first pass.  He deftly managed a tight arc in the street, came back and sunk his teeth into the my well toned calf.  My legs flew out in front of me and I landed in the street on my tightly muscled back.  Fortunately, Spike was content with one bite, and retreated back into the house.  His concerned owner soon materialized and in a freaked out voice offered to give me a ride home.  I was having none of that and told her I would blade home and be back in five minutes to figure out what to do.

   By the time I got back, owner had printed a copy of Spike’s last visit to the vet in order to show me that all of his shots were up to date.  She apologized, though I was in no mood to hear it.  Off to the emergency room, where I was cleaned up, given a tetanus shot and a prescription for antibiotics.  The doctor also told me that I had to keep tabs on Spike through his owner to make sure he did not show any signs of  disease. 

   Aside from the physical scars, and the mental ones outlined above, I came out of it fine.  Which is more than I can say for Spike.  His owner sent me a check to reimburse for the medical expenses and inclosed a letter and documentation informing me that Spike had been put down shortly after his rendezvous with my leg.

   Any mixed feelings for my role in Spike’s ultimate demise?  No.  Like Bin Laden, he deserved to go.

PS Part II  This bitchfest does not include good friend Jim Thomas and his four legged buddy Jethro (Tony vouches for both, and that’s good enough for me).