The day I made a little girl cry
So anyway, the OMOD (Old Man's Other Daughter) is visiting, and she brought along her sidekick, the very curly and diva-ish Rose Blossom.
Earlier today, I decided to go outside and investigate this strange bright yellow light in the sky. Hadn't seen such a thing since like September.
I trussed Rose Blossom up in "The Gentle Leader." This is apparently an S&M device designed to strengthen the bond between humans and canines. In Rose Blossom's case, something as simple as "walking down the street" is literally impossible without its discipline.
So we set out and splashed along the muddy, trash-strewn streets of Auburn.
Before long, a small gang of 9-year-olds approached towards us. These kids were bad-ass wrapped in trouble. I heard West Side Story Jets/Sharks music playing in my head.
RB is unpredictable with strangers. She'll either ignore them or turn into a raging snarling beast. I hoped for the latter. There's nothing worse than 9-year-olds who know they're not serving hard time any time soon.
She was my only hope.
She failed me.
"Is that a poodle?" one of the crips asked as we passed on the sidewalk.
"She's a cocker spaniel," I said. Cocker spaniels are way more bad-ass than poodles. Everybody knows that. Is that a shiv in your sock?
They were sufficiently wary of the cocker spaniel reputation. We went our separate ways.
"Why you wanna know what kinda dog that is?" his friend, the most talented methamphetamine cook at Washburn Elementary, asked.
"I dunno, I like dogs."
He's in charge of the dog fighting ring, I know it.
Danger averted, we forged on, stepping through mud puddles large and deep enough to drown cats.
A woman approached in the distance, accompanied by the tiny human she made sometime last year. The little one only started walking like yesterday. Wobble, wobble.
RB recognized the tiny person as something lower and tastier on the food chain.
Tears were shed and howls were shrieked.
It was embarrassing.
I apologized.
I trussed Rose Blossom up in "The Gentle Leader." This is apparently an S&M device designed to strengthen the bond between humans and canines. In Rose Blossom's case, something as simple as "walking down the street" is literally impossible without its discipline.
So we set out and splashed along the muddy, trash-strewn streets of Auburn.
Before long, a small gang of 9-year-olds approached towards us. These kids were bad-ass wrapped in trouble. I heard West Side Story Jets/Sharks music playing in my head.
RB is unpredictable with strangers. She'll either ignore them or turn into a raging snarling beast. I hoped for the latter. There's nothing worse than 9-year-olds who know they're not serving hard time any time soon.
She was my only hope.
She failed me.
"Is that a poodle?" one of the crips asked as we passed on the sidewalk.
"She's a cocker spaniel," I said. Cocker spaniels are way more bad-ass than poodles. Everybody knows that. Is that a shiv in your sock?
They were sufficiently wary of the cocker spaniel reputation. We went our separate ways.
"Why you wanna know what kinda dog that is?" his friend, the most talented methamphetamine cook at Washburn Elementary, asked.
"I dunno, I like dogs."
He's in charge of the dog fighting ring, I know it.
Danger averted, we forged on, stepping through mud puddles large and deep enough to drown cats.
A woman approached in the distance, accompanied by the tiny human she made sometime last year. The little one only started walking like yesterday. Wobble, wobble.
RB recognized the tiny person as something lower and tastier on the food chain.
Tears were shed and howls were shrieked.
It was embarrassing.
I apologized.
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