There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


How pedophiles change our behavior

This morning when I got home from dog walking, Katy and Buster went nuts. Instead of playing Crazy Front Yard Game (a daily staple), they were barking under my car. Now, I get a bit jumpy when there is a lot of barking due to the many incidents when the pedophile across the street has called the police because my dogs were barking (at 4 in the afternoon)*. I assumed it was a cat under the car, but when I looked, I saw a giant rat staring back at me. It was actually a possum, but giant rat is an accurate description.

I put the dogs in the house, got ready for work, handed out pig ears, then went to the car. I checked underneath even though I was sure all the commotion sent the giant rat running for sanctuary, but it was still there. I started the car, checked again: still there. I backed out very slowly (because I didn't want to scrape giant rat guts off my driveway): still there.

I got out of the car and walked toward the giant rat, and it finally had a thought. "Shit," it thought, "I better get out of here really slowly." So it turned toward the jungle-y section between my driveway and Razor's driveway, and started climbing a tree with incredible slowness. I took its picture when it got about 7 feet up (it climbed so damn slow that I had time to unlock the front door and find the camera).

Since the giant rat is clearly not too bright, I'm expecting that tomorrow I'll find giant rat bones and fur in the dog poop. Circle of life.

*That revenge was particularly sweet.

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