|While I'm still mounted on the Pissy Horse...
||[Jan. 24th, 2008|10:04 am]
Dear Two Guys Chasing a Beagle, |
Last Saturday, you were chasing your dog up my street, while I was walking down it with my two dogs. You two were waving your arms and hollering at the dog, who wisely, was paying no attention to you, because you were clearly MAD.
I knelt down and opened my arms and called "C'mere sweetheart!" and he ran right up to me. (Note to women. This works on more than just dogs, if you know what I'm saying...)
Now, when you guys caught up, you were huffing and puffing and said something about several blocks and how were you going to carry the dog all the way back. (Note to you two: a little less tv for you both and you could have caught your dog much sooner. A little less food for your fatbeagle and you could have easily carried an appropriate-weight-for-a-beagle home. Although then you might not have caught him sooner, but it'd be better for him anyway.)
So I offered you the use of one of my leashes, since I wisely have dogs who have collars that can be held without bending over and was only 100 yards from home. I told you to just drop it off on the front stair railing as soon as you got a chance.
I sort of thought the chance would have happened by now. Personally, as soon as I got home, I would've walked (although from the size of your gut, I'm guessing you would have used a car) the leash back.
It's been almost a week now. I want my damned leash back. It was custom made, is one of a pair of leashes and was lovingly broken in over 6 years of constant use. You are two days away from having the surrounding neighborhood plastered with an abbreviated version of this letter.
Do not push me. I almost killed a cashier over a wasted plastic bag this week. And I really, really am fond of this leash.