I would call myself a dog lover.
I’m the proud owner of this little fellow:
He’s my makeshift baby.
I’ve always been a dog lover. My first dog was a fluffy red-brown haired pomeranian named Pebbles. Apparently, my stripper name would be Pebbles Diamond (the name of your first pet + the first street on which you lived). Not a bad stripper name, I think.
We gave her away, mainly because my madre could hardly handle having a pet indoors, particularly one that would have seasonal menstrual cycles and bleed in random corners of the house.
We then had a series of jindo dogs. The one that stuck was Noel. She sorta looked like this pup:
As with most Korean families, my family did not know the first thing about caring for a dog. (I’m a firm believer that 1st generation Koreans may be among the worst dog owners on the planet.) I think Noel had maybe 1 or 2 baths in her lifetime (which consisted of spraying her down with a hose) and 2 walks. I think she’s somewhere in doggie heaven now (R. I. P.).
Now, there’s Kobe. Kobe’s a spoiled little bitch. . . but I love him. He gets fed twice a day, walked three times a day, bathed. . . when I’m feeling generous, and has a multitude of toys (which he absolutely LOVES).
Down the street from us lives one of these mongrels:
And one of these:
EVERY TIME I walk past this house, these two mongrels have a bark fest that lasts nothing short of 5 minutes.
One night we all happened to be out at the same time and the German Shepherd from HELL bee-lined for Kobe, growling and ready to pounce. I was stunned, and before I could ask the owner why the hell he keeps his devil dog UNLEASHED, all three of them had already run back into the house. I would have knocked on their door, but fear of the devil dogs held me back.
So I declared a silent war on the household.
Nonviolent resistance, civil disobedience, passive aggressiveness – whatever you’d like to call it.
Sometimes when I walk by, I’ll glare at their door or shuffle my feet just loud enough so that they’ll bark and hopefully piss off a few neighbors. Maybe they’ll file a complaint with our wonderful HOA, who will then inform the owners that they need to keep their devil dogs LEASHED and QUIET. Maybe.
Or perhaps I’ll anonymously leave a wire basket muzzle on their front porch:
That might not be such a terrible idea.