It’s Monday. We feel like raging. We’re not entirely sure how this differs from any other day of the week.
Last week I was on a lovely evening walk with Mr. T when a man came rushing out of his house screaming and flailing his arms in a most dramatic fashion. By the time I realized I was the target of his hissy fit, he was right up in my face. With a sour expression on his face, he pointed at a tiny little dog turd on his front lawn and accused me of not picking up after Mr. T, which was laughable for several reasons: 1) The turd was the size of a marble, thus clearly not coming from a 75 pound pittie, 2) the turd was old and dried out, so clearly not fresh, and 3) I was already carrying not one, but TWO full poop bags. Why on earth would I pick up after him twice and then just say “meh” about a third one, and 4) while he couldn’t have known this, I am a bit of a poo police in my neighborhood and have joked about starting a vigilante “poo crew” because no one likes stepping in dog shit, even dog owners. While I wanted to tell him that he clearly needed to watch more “CSI” to hone his detective skills, I told him that while I did not take responsibility for the lawn nugget, I would pick it up since he was so clearly distressed about its presence (said in a most patronizing tone, of course). While I understand that people don’t want dog poop in their yards, chastising any and all dog owners who dare pass by your property is just asinine. Luckily for him, I’m not much into confrontation, so I’ll just passive-aggressively bitch about him here on the interwebz.
I got up early this morning because I thought I had to work. Turns out, she only needed me for a short while and I took advantage of that. Went home, grabbed my dogs, and took them off for an adventure. We hit a trail we don’t often hit because it is for leashed dogs only. No big deal, I kept my guys on leash and we hiked up to the waterfall. I passed quite a few people and dogs for a Monday morning, and yes, there were some off leash dogs. They kept to themselves and I kept to myself. Upon returning to my car, I found this:
Well so much for my pleasant mood, asshole. Just because I have dog crates in my car and multiple bumper stickers claiming just how close to crazy dog lady I am does not mean I control all of the dogs. My dogs were on leash the entire time, and even if they weren’t, say something to my face-don’t leave a snotty little note. To add insult to injury, the front of the card was for a semi-local dog grooming shop. Perhaps they thought my poodles needed grooming too?
Someone piss you off over the weekend? Let us hear about it in the comments.