Once upon a time there was a lady who pushed her dog in a stroller. This lady lives in my neighborhood. I have seen her pushing this dog in his own personal stroller for a few years now. You might remember reading about this in my book. The dog showed no signs of missing any limbs and I mused (Ranted? Mused!) about how I would need to wear a big orange vest and carry a big orange cone if I was pushing a dog in a stroller to announce to the world that I was, in fact, not a complete IDIOT who pushes a DOG in a STROLLER! It would have to say something like, "WARNING! DOG HAS HEART CONDITION AND MUST BE PUSHED IN THIS RIDICULOUS STROLLER!" Something like that. I might have a flare, too. Yeah. Definitely need flares.
Ok, so let us now fast forward to a few weeks ago. I was waiting in front of my daughter's school to pick her up when I hear my girlfriend frantically calling my name, "SHARI!" ~huffing, puffing~ "SHAAAAARRRIIIIII!!" She's running towards me, her red hair flailing in the wind, and she is panicked! In between trying to catch her breath, I catch these few words..."The dog...has...NO LEGS!!!!" ~sound of screeching tires in my head, followed by complete silence...slight ringing...possibly the sound of my pounding heart in my ears, although it could have been the battle cry of El Diablo telling me that I'm going to hell, and here's my hand basket.~ I am able to mutter a pitiful, whisper of a "whaaaat?" :-/ She repeats, "No legs. Dog has no back legs. Lady takes him to the park and he scoots around on his butt because he has...no...legs." What else could I say? "Punch me in the face. Punch me right now. Punch then pray, for I fear I am on my way south. Pearly gates just slammed shut on the woman who dissed a no-legged dog." Apparently my friend was at the park chatting it up with a few of her mommy friends and talk turned to Dog Pusher Lady and my friend giggled and mentioned my hilarious commentary in the book. To which they responded, "Oh, he doesn't have any back legs." True story.
So as I am wallowing in my self hatred, a ray of light...a beacon in the night, if you will. On the way back to the car I run into another mom friend that I don't know very well, but we pass each other daily and exchange pleasantries. (Sounds so civilized, doesn't it? Yeah, if I wasn't an evil dog dissing bastard.) I explain to her that I am the scum that grows on bottom-dwellers bellies because I wrote about this lady with her dog and now I find out that the dog has no back legs. To which this angel, sent from God, says to me, "Don't worry, you did nothing wrong. I know that dog. He's an asshole." It was at this moment that I knew. She is my people. Anyone who could call a dog an asshole is alright by me! :D Jury is still out on my reservations for hell, but it might be that my transgressions weren't as bad as previously thought. I'm sure PETA would see it otherwise, for I don't think PETA peeps would call a dog an asshole, so let's just keep this between us. They are not my people.