After our morning walk today, Audrey and I were just going in the front door when a frighteningly ugly bull terrier escaped from its frighteningly ugly female owner and, teeth bared, launched itself across the road in our direction. Thankfully, we made it safely inside, and I was able to close the door just as the snarling beast made its final lunge for my little dog’s hindquarters.
I know it is the owners who are generally at fault in these situations but I still believe that there should be more control exerted by the relevant authorities over these breeds of dangerous and aggressive dogs.
The woman this morning was by no means intelligent or strong enough to control her animal – and was acting very irresponsibly anyway by venturing near other owners and their dogs while whispering in shakily subdued and rising, agitated tones to her vicious charge, ‘No . . . no . . . no . . .’ She may as well have been saying: ‘Get ready . . . get ready . . . here it comes . . .’
Of course, I couldn’t help myself; I opened the living room window and gave her a piece of my mind. She shrugged, offered me a flippant ‘Sorry’, and impatience ignited my fury even further.
‘Calm down, will you.’ She said at last.
‘I am calm,’ I told her. ‘I’m just incredibly furious with you and your horrible dog and very relieved to have narrowly escaped serious injury – and I’m finding it terribly difficult trying to express both emotions simultaneously.’
She eventually won the argument by telling me: ‘Piss off, freak.’
Now I am seriously worried that when she gets together later this week with her colleagues in the Evil-Bastard Dog Club they will decide to gang up on little Audrey and teach her a violent canine lesson or two. But she doesn’t need to wait until the meeting; I’m confident the club’s members will already be aware of what has just happened.
Yes, I know I could be accused of being slightly paranoid but it is such a close-knit community around here that whenever I fart, the telephone will ring and a helpful voice on the other side of the village will say: ‘Pardon you.’
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
You can tell when you’ve trumped even in London, you smelly man. Oop, pardon you.
Was her fault anyways. If you can’t handle your dog, then the dog should get a new owner.
Nelson,
Pardon me.
Matthew,
I blame them both. I do believe a few days with me and Audrey would soon calm a dog like that down, though. If we aren’t going to ban such breeds, then at least there should be some official control over who can own one.
You must log in to post a comment.