Warning: Moron using Tool
It’s been said that God protects drunks and little children. Clearly, God also protects small dogs with idiot owners.
Tie outs are handy for securing a dog outside when you don’t have a convenient fenced in area. A lead is attached to a stake that can be pounded into the ground. Attach the dog to the lead and SHAZAM your dog can enjoy the outdoors and you know where he is. It’s a win/win!
Because the tie out is such a simple and useful device, I want to believe that the neighbor Chihuahua is securely tethered as she barks like a crazed banshee and leaps about with every ounce of her five pound strength while Betty and I walk down the sidewalk.
Betty, a senior but still vital Akita mix, is a lovely dog. Once during a walk, she grabbed a squirrel in her mouth (in all fairness to Betty, the squirrel ran right under her nose). Seeing Betty with the squirrel, I said DROP IT! She gave me a look that said, sorry dear, no dice. She then bit down on the squirrel and dropped its limp body on the sidewalk.
Though Betty has mellowed some with the years, she still gets her back up every time that demented little dog goes into another of her bark fests.
Now, the tie down stake, like any tool, only works properly if used properly. And the thing about such stakes is they must be pounded fully into the ground in order for the system to be effective. You can’t just plunk it softly in the flower bed like a plastic tag that identifies a flower.
In the several years I’ve been walking Betty that raucous Chihuahua has lived with a vacuous woman of middle age a few doors down on the opposite side of the street. Certainly, a little dog barking through a window as you walk by, merits minor notice. But once the dog is outside the house, the rules change. My first priority is always the safety of the dog I’m with. But naturally, I am not unconcerned with the fate of any other dogs involved. And obviously, a five pounder is no match for the fifty pound Betty. Let’s face it, to Betty that Chihuahua is just a big annoying squirrel.
That it happened, yet again, was inevitable. Betty and I are walking on the other side of the street. Little wacko dog is in tie down, yapping and zipping around. She lunges in our direction. Because the tie out stake was put in like a thumb tack, the exuberant little hoodlum easily pulls it out of the soil. She makes a beeline for us, running across the street, the line with the stake on the end clanging behind her tragicomically. Incredibly, at that moment there was no lawn crew truck with trailer thundering down the street nor was there a big UPS truck roaring through the neighborhood.
God once again spared this small beast. Perhaps the little wretch suffers enough living with a nincompoop. The good Lord must feel it unnecessary to add to that ignominy with being squashed like a bug in the street.
The tiny freak stands inches from us barking wildly. Betty, to her credit, seems to have bored of this nonsense and remains at my side instead of grabbing the hapless fool in her mouth and snapping her spine. As usual, the imbecile who owns this dog who has cheated death more times than I can count (and those are just the ones I know about!) appears on her porch saying, “Oh! Sorry sorry! ".
Then the moronic woman runs across the street just as heedlessly and with equal luck as does her dog. “She won’t hurt you!” The boob tells me for the umpteenth time.
With each exchange, I am less polite but say roughly the same thing: Because of your careless stupidity your very small dog has only just escaped death. Now, what exactly are you sorry about?
Even dumb folks can learn. Some just choose not to.