Unbeknownst to me, there’s a certain protocol to which I must adhere when accosted by a stray dog. According to my spouse, after said encounter, I must be able to answer the following pertinent queries:
- How close was the dog to my person?
- How big was the dog?
- Did the dog have tags?
- What color was the dog?
- Did the dog appear rabid?
- Was the dog male or female?
In what direction did the dog flee?
He’s serious. This is a good time to point out that my husband can hear a gnat’s ass land on his 1968 hot rod but a band of Vikings could lay seige to our living room and he wouldn’t bat an eye. Do you think he heard me screaming ten feet away from him? That’s a negative, Ghost Rider.
Anyway, with the above guidelines firmly in mind, my next in the pitch-black darkness of early morning stray dog encounter will go a little something like this…
Well, good morning snarling, stocky, impossibly large stray animal who has unknowingly invaded my territory! Whatever are you doing so very far away from my utterly defenseless, fat suburban mom self? Come closer. Here, chew on my shin bone while I check you for tags. I wouldn’t want to kick the living shit of out you if we’re neighbors now would I? What’s that…are you drooling? No. No, that appears to be copious amounts of foam overflowing those incredibly sharp canines you’ve sunk into my leg. Thank goodness I remembered to shave my legs and put on clean underpants. Oh, dear…you’re simply not close enough for me to admire your shaggy, mangy coat! Here, hold on to my neck. No, no, here so you cut off my oxygen supply and render me unconscious. Say, it that the hot new summer color from L’Oreal you’re sporting? You look smashing, darling; Joan Rivers would be so proud that it coordinates with your bloodshot eyes. Now, come just a wee might closer so we can see which team you’re on…ooopsies! You’re all boy aren’t you, big guy! Now, I’ll need an itinerary so Dear Hubby will know where to find my remains you’ve so painstakingly dragged into the underbrush. What’s that…you’re going to devour me on my front lawn? How thoughtful! You knew I hadn’t packed an overnight bag.
Dear Hubby thought all this was wildly entertaining. Jerk! What exactly did you expect me to do, run outside in my underwear and shoot it? he snarked.
You know, that’s not a bad idea. Then again, I better remember to ask the dog if he has a wife and kids first.