There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


Continuing tales from the life of a Nut Magnet.

I donít think my clothes match today, although when I was home they seemed to go together just fine. Now my brownish pants look not brown enough for my shirt, and Iím pretty sure people are laughing at me and thinking that I should go work in the scoring center with the rest of the freaks who canít dress themselves.

Now I will re-create for you a conversation I had this morning whilst I was walking my dogs.

Scene: Self is wandering along with dogs on leashes. Dogs are sniffing everything in search of delicious cat poo. Dogs are occasionally peeing on street signs, light poles, etc.

Silver PT Cruiser pulls up to stop sign about 10 yards behind self and dogs and just sits there. This makes self nervous, so dogs are urged to stop sniffing and keep walking. PT Cruiser starts to turn right, changes mind, does a u-turn and pulls up next to us with window down.

Crazy Old Bitch in PT Cruiser: Excuse me. Do you let your dogs pee on your bushes?

Self: Yes, I do.

COBIPTC: You let your dogs pee on your own bushes? Your dogs just peed on those bushes. Are those your bushes?

Self: They peed on the wall, and no, they are not my bushes.

COBIPTC: Those are Mimi Cavenderís bushes.

Self: I know whose bushes they are.

COBIPTC: You know Mimi Cavender?

Self: Yes, I live just behind her. I am well acquainted with her. She has allowed my dogs into her yard before.

COBIPTC: I canít believe that you actually know Mimi Cavender and you would allow your dogs to pee on her bushes. Dog pee will kill those bushes.

Self: They didnít pee on the bushes.

COBIPTC: Yes they did! I saw them!

Self: If you think I am breaking the law, call the police. Iím not going to talk to you any more.

COBIPTC: Fine. I will. And theyíll give you a ticket!

Self: No, they wonít, because thereís no law against walking your dogs on a leash.

COBIPTC: Yes there is! You canít just let your dogs pee on Mimi Cavenderís bushes!

Self: Go away and harass someone else.


So as we approach my house, I see COBIPTC sitting in front of my house. Why did I tell an insane person where I lived? I donít know. Didnít foresee the outcomes. Also sitting in front of my house is the animal control truck. The driver drove up about a block to where I was and proceeded to tell me that COBIPTC is ďthe local nut job.Ē She calls the police about EVERYTHING. I asked him if it was indeed illegal for my dogs to pee on bushes, which they didnít on this one occasion, but which they do on a frequent basis. ďIt is illegal to let your dog defecate on someoneís lawn,Ē he responded. I held up exhibit A, a bag of fresh dog turds. What about pee? I asked. ďDog gotta pee,Ē he answered. COBIPTC wanted him to give me a ticket, which he didnít, but then he proceeded to tell me exactly where she lives. Coincidence? I think not. I think that he figured if she knew where I live, it would be in my best interest to know the same about her. It might even be in my best interest to take a dump of my own on her lawn.

I swear that I donít go out of my way to attract this kind of attention.

Last week we went to Steak Nite where the addition of my two bad dogs made a total of 6 bad dogs (some worse than others, but I wonít mention namesÖ). Five of those dogs individually weighed between 80 and 100 pounds, for a grand total of about 450 pounds of slobbering, drooling, wagging silliness. Katy weighs 35 pounds. She (and her butthole) were of great interest to all, and there was quite a bit of humping going on. She was VERY tired the next day.

Right now my sense of frustration with my job is at an all-time high. I am working for a client who canít make up their collective minds about any fucking thing. Ever. Canít get anything signed off because nothing is ever done because it has to be fiddled with for ever. Plus I have Captain Christopher Pike whizzing up and down the hall past my door, inspiring hateful thoughts wherever she goes. Grrrr.

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