August 31, 2010
I warned you that this was going to be my cranky week, so if you are expecting a light-hearted dog tale - push on to your next blog...
This is an open letter to the woman out walking two dogs in Sewall's Point on Saturday morning - and you know who you are. You let go of the leash on your German Shepherd and thought it was perfectly acceptable to let it chase our aged cat, who was napping in the sun on his own front porch. You thought it was the neighborly thing to do when your one hundred-pound dog ran onto our porch, chased old Hoover through the front garden, while knocking over and breaking flower pots, and then pursued Hoover around the side of the house. Hoover managed to scale the gate to safety, leaving your dog barking, barking, barking. You ambled into our driveway, picked up the leash and strolled back out to the street with the dog in tow. Did you apologize? Did you ask if our cat was OK? Did you come view the damage left in the wake of your uncontrolled hound? You know the answers, and my astute Gentle Readers can guess.
Miss Morning Glory read you the riot act, and I hope you listened. We will summon the frogs, and get them to ribbet you and your sorry hounds.
Hoover disappeared, emerging about five hours later, with a limp, and after a long drink at the inside watering hole collapsed into a pile of ancient, bony fur and slept until morning. He is avoiding his favorite sunny spot on the front porch. The end.
