That’s a reflection of me, with uncharacteristically insane hair. It was probably standing on end in terror at the time.
What do *I* have to be afraid of, you wonder?
(cue ominous musical score)
Yes it is. It is a cute little chihuahua. Named Boo. And Boo gets her name BECAUSE SHE IS SCARY!
Boo belongs to my neighbor, and as a special, limited time bonus, she comes with two 100% FREE, that’s right I said FREE, hotdogs!
These three terrors belong to my neighbor, who’s away for the day. Because he hates me, he asked me if I’d look after them for him. “Sure, no problem,” I said, “I’ll even take them for a walk with my dogs!”
WTF was I thinking?
First of all, I am now officially able to hire myself out as a ranch hand, because I have mastered the art of lassoing recalcitrant animals with bad tempers. There was no way on doG’s green earth that Boo was going to let me touch her, which she made very clear by showing me 6 times the number of (sharp, pointy) teeth a normal dog has, and throwing in a rumble like a freight train as a bonus. I had to rope her to get her to come out the door with me!
May I remind you:
Once I calf-roped her into a slip lead, I then had to contend with the hotdogs. (WienerTwins, ACTIVATE!) They scattered to the 4 corners of the parking garage when I tried to convince them to get into my car.
“You’re not the boss of me! You’re not my real dad!” etc.
I used my big human brain to remember I was packing salmon cookies and I lured them to my car like a pedophile reels in school children. Then I had to tackle them so I could carefully hoist them into what they told me was far too high a vehicle to hop into.
At the park, things were no better. Boo had managed to wiggle out of her slip lead in the car, and exploded from the crate the second I opened it, which then lead to a lengthy chase around the parking lot until I could lasso her again. I tell you, I was |thisclose| to leaving her there and just going home. *shakes fist at Boo*
And then there were the wieners.
Once we were at the park, Boo decided she liked me just fine. She was especially fond of my treat pouch.
Here’s Mr. Woo pretending Boo is not about to bite him. Which, incidentally, was not a successful strategy.
I had to talk Woo down, to prevent him from stabbing her to death with the nearest handy implement.
Piper helped me hold him back.
Let me at ‘er! I’ll tear to pieces, I say, I’ll shred her like lettuce!
Tweed thought walking at wiener pace was boring as anything.
But we didn’t have much choice, because we were actually going slow for Her Royal Gimpiness, who is suffering from ball-related skinned-off paw pads.
Can you carry me? My feetses hurts.
Wait, are you carrying four legged peoples? Hey, you, I’m talking to you … down here!
Tweed, would you please get these wiener dogs out of my hair … err, shoelaces?
*sigh* Yeah, okay. Come on, wieners.
The Pied Piper Of Hotdogs. Ironically, it’s not Piper.
I hate the stupid Food Lady. Maybe I should just kill myself right here, right now, in this pond.
Nah. Forget it. Let’s just go home.
Then Piper sounded the alarm.
Dogs to arms! Six whippets approach us from the left!
And guess who came scuttling to me for protection as fast as their chubby little legs could propel them??
*struts* That’s right. Who’s got the power now, suckas??
You may have won this round, but we shall meet again, Food Lady. And victory will be mine.
Count your blessings, dear readers. You don’t always realize how many you have to gather in your arms. I may be jobless, and I may be very poor, but I have the most amazing and wonderful friends who do the most incredible things for me. You know who you are!
Also, you should count your blessings, because you don’t live with Boo!