It is truly a joy having people I don’t even know threaten me while on my own front porch. One of my neighbors’ dog got out of his yard and was hanging around my fence, visiting with my pups.
The escapee, a Rottweiler, whose name is Rosco, has managed this feat before. So I go out and sit with him until his human realizes he’s missing.
Today however, a large man walking a small dog, yells at me to call ‘my fucking dog’ back or else. I respond that he isn’t my dog – then I add, “Or else what?”
“Don’t get smart wise ass!” he shouts at me.
Now, to be honest, I suffer from ‘Short man’s disorder,’ and I don’t give a shit if this guy with the purse-sized dog is six-foot-four, out weighs me by at least 75 pounds and is at least 20-years my junior, I will not let that stand. So I remain seated as I mouth-off, “You’re the asshole who got stupid by demanding I call my dog — so don’t go giving me any lip, shithead.”
That stunned him as the look on his face told me that he was thinking twice about tangling with me, which is a good thing. Though my adrenaline was up, I would have more than likely gotten hurt, if not severely killed.
“Second god-damned time this has happened to me today,” he complained as he continued to walk by.
“Well,” I called back to him, “that’s not my fault now is it?”
In the mean time, Rosco, sensing he was not being appreciated by the big guy with the tiny dog, came and sat on the porch next to me and drank all the coffee from my cup. I could see him ever-so gently quaking, anticipating what might happen next.
Now, it might be my imagination, but I think Rosco was ready to pounce on the dude had he been anymore threatening towards me — and I’m not even his human. Perhaps I owe Rosco a big steak the next time he goes ‘Hogan’s Heroes,’ for keeping my name out of the obituaries.