This morning as I pulled into the parking lot of the coffee shop where I often stop on the way to work, I parked next to some small car with a big dog. He took up most of the back seat.
I got out and walked directly behind this car, towards the store. The big freaking dog started barking. No, actually, he went insane with hatred, jumping to get out, anxious to plant his fangs into my neck. He practically racked himself on the emergency brake jumping front to back.
So some short-haired butchy-looking stocky person – a “woman”, ostensibly – leaps out from the store as I’m approaching it, having noticed that her assassin-dog was now threatening me with instant death. She yells from the storefront — a good 50 feet from her car — “NORBERT!! QUIET!!”
Norbert. Nice name for an assassin-dog.
As I walk up to the doorway, her shouting gets louder, of course. She keeps on doing it anyway. And it is having absolutely no effect on this dumbass dog of hers, anyway.
I pass her and walk into the store. Still not a word to me, like, I don’t know, “sorry about my dog almost killing you?” Anything along those lines. Nada.
She re-enters the store. Super short hair. Large, loose-fitting shirt. Shorts and boots that are a little, um, manly. Some big tattoo on her left leg; not a dainty, feminine one, either. You’re shocked, I’m sure.
She continues watching her oversized dog, in her undersized car. Stirs coffee. Dog still barking.
I walk out, coffee in hand. She walks out behind me. Yelling starts again.
SO glad I stopped for coffee today.
Nobody asked me, but Norbert could use some good training. And so could his idiot owner. Standing 50 feet from your car to yell at your stupid, out-of-control dog to stop trying to kill innocent people is a less than ideal way to handle it, no?
Call me crazy!