Archive for March 17th, 2009

It was the first time I’d been to the park in over a year. The four of us — Biscuit the VBD included — were feeling quite cheerful. Until we heard you.

We heard you before we could see you; you were hidden by forest, around the next bend of the paved walkway. We heard your menacing voice shouting, “What did I tell you?! You know better! You will NOT behave this way…” I felt sorry for your poor kid, just trying to have a nice afternoon stroll through the park.

Then I saw that it wasn’t one kid, but two. And it wasn’t kids; it was dogs. Two grown, but young, chocolate labs. You were coming toward us, leashed dogs cowering, your face a scowl. The VBD became very excited to meet your two dogs. I held him firmly to my right side as we passed you, because I feared that he would incite your dogs to “misbehave” in your eyes, and incur your wrath again.

I don’t know what they did next, but you took it quite personally. Just as we were beside you, you yanked their leashes down to the ground, forcing them to their bellies. You pinned the one by the neck, and started screaming in their faces again.

“You KNOW better! What did I say?!”

I wanted to kill you. At least hurt you badly. You don’t abuse dogs. And you don’t fucking ASK a dog, “What did I tell you?” Did you think he was going to answer you?

Are you psychotic? Or just mean? We didn’t confront you, because you were out of control. And I didn’t want to talk to you; I wanted to yank you to the ground by your collar and scream in your face, “You KNOW better! You will NOT behave this way!”

I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to follow you, see where you live, so I could report you. Jif said, “But what would we report? That he’s an idiot? That he yells at his dogs?” I thought if you’d act that way in public, there’s no imagining what you do to them behind closed doors.

We were still talking about you that night. Clearly, you wanted to be noticed. You weren’t a frustrated dog owner, hissing “Oh, come on!” under your breath. You were putting on a show. You wanted people to see you.

Jif said you were showing off. Showing how authoritative you are, what a good animal trainer you are. It took me a minute to get my mind around that, but I think he’s right. You thought you were impressing someone.

You weren’t. Least of all, your dogs. They snicker at you behind your back, and fart in your shoes while you sleep.


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