Your Dog Can Get You into Trouble

Today I had to check on my Laser-38. Since I hadn't given Doberwoman her morning beach walk (too many hours squandered on the English Premier League), she had to come along as escort, bodyguard and conversation piece. We discovered conditions of super-low tide. The gang plank down to the floating docks was extremely steep. So I let Doberwoman run ahead much of the length of her Retractable Belt Leash as we approached the locked gate to the marina.

There was a well-dressed, 20-ish blonde woman with immaculately coiffed 'big hair'. She was waiting by the gate for the next passer-by with a key to let her through. She was pushing an elaborate baby carriage. The only passenger in this carriage was a highly-coiffed runty little dog, maybe half as big as my 3/1/2 month old, 18 lb granddaughter. This little bratty dog was snarling, growling and barking at my perfectly behaved Ms Ballou. As I was opening and holding the gate for Lady McHair to pass through with her entourage, I heard her speak: "You know there is a law that restricts your leash to 3 1/2 feet." My first and only reaction was this stranger was accusing Ms Ballou of being a loose Doberwoman. In a word my Doberwoman was being called a slut and a whore.

Big Hair was walking behind on the dock so I slowed down so she could hear me as my mouth moved faster than my brain:

What are you? The self-anointed dog police? Der canine Korps? Are you German? Are you a Republican? If I knew you were going to act like such a narc, I wouldn't have let you in the gate without a key. There's probably a law against that. And your little joke of a pampered pooch is ten times more vicious and out of control than my purebred gentle lady.

And with that I completely unchained my Doberwoman and let her lope ahead of me, all the way to the boat. 

If Trophy Wife had been along, she would have been mortified. On second thought, had T.W. been there, Lady McHair would have gone for a swim.