Hannah the Wonder Dog
Dogs like walks. Ours in particular. So far, so very good. Exercise is needful, we live in the best city around for outdoor activities during the wintertime (it's almost 11pm here and it's a freezing 65 degrees...don't hate us for our weather, we try not to rub it in more than six or seven times a day), and we have a park a block from our house. So, the walks themselves are not the issue.
No. Hannah the Wonder Dog is the issue.
Hannah, I must stress, is not my dog. She belongs to the family down the block and across the street. The family who doesn't believe in leashes, dog training, or, apparently, common sense. The family who routinely stand there while this scenario plays out, over and over again.
We come towards them, three big dogs in tow. Three dogs walking politely on their leashes, I must add. Their dog, Hannah, using her keen dog senses, spots 'friends'. Hannah, being unrestrained by either leash or word, races across the street to engage our dogs in happy sniffing. While we force our dogs to freeze, she races around us, while her owners call, "Hannah. Come back. Hannah." They don't call it too enthusiastically, either.
Hannah is either very excitable or very afraid of my dogs, or both. Because every time she races over for the sniff-fest, she pees.
Yesterday, she peed on my foot. While her horrible owners stood there and called from across the street, "Sorry!"
I called back, "Her coming over isn't so bad, but I'm not really thrilled about her peeing on me."
They smiled and waved and went inside.
I hate them.
But, no worries. I'll get even. I have three dogs. They do a lot of 'dog business'. And if some mysterious 'dog business' randomly shows up on Hannah's doorstep, well...who can say it wasn't her, taking an excitement dump?
Not me. Why, I have proof the dog can't help it. My shoe's still 'marked'.