Asshole Gate Opener

Asshole Gate Opener

Earlier today, someone let my dogs out. I don't know whether it was intentional or they were just trying to sneak into my yard, saw the dogs and freaked out. But when I went outside to see if they needed more water, the gate was wide open. And since the gate had been closed when I put the dogs into the backyard, and since my dogs don't have fingers, I can only assume someone let them out. Probably those punkass kids that walk by, throwing bottles at them. People think jails are crowded now, but if these kids are the future then they're going to be a hell of a lot more crowded in a few years.

I yelled for my aunt to keep an eye on the girls, locked the back door behind me and ran to the gate. My dogs were hanging out across the street. I looked down at Geo's size 9 men's slippers on my size 4 boys feet and debated for a moment whether I had time to change into running shoes. At which point Idiot Dog #1 took off down the street, thus making the decision for me. I chased down Idiot Dog #2 since he was closer and tossed him back into the backyard. Then I took off down the street in pursuit of Idiot Dog #1.

He goes down one street, crosses another, and zig-zags back and forth across another street. All the while I am chasing him, in my too big fucking slippers, and throwing my body into traffic so people will slow down and not accidentally hit him. Yes, I am an even bigger idiot than either of my two dogs. People are scattering left and right like we're a couple of velociraptors, because they're scared of my 85 lb dog. Ten minutes later, I chase him into a gated parking lot. A woman is waiting in her car, about to pull out, but she sees that Idiot Dog #1 will bolt out if she leaves so she kindly waits. I spend the next 15 minutes, running around after the dog, trying to make him tired, while I myself am tripping over my slippers and gasping for air in the heat and humidity. And apologizing profusely to the woman who is sitting in her car, watching me sympathetically.

Finally, he makes the unwise move of running into this long corner (he'll never be a General) and when he tries to bolt, I pin him between my legs like fucking Xena the Warrior Princess and wedge my hand under his collar. He starts thrashing around, trying to dislodge me but I win the skirmish and start dragging him in the direction of my house. I exit the parking lot, making sure to re-open the heavy ass gate all the way, so the woman who has been patiently waiting can get out. All the while my 85-lb dog is thrashing around, trying to get away from my 110-lb self. A futile effort. What my dog didn't know then but knows now, is that I am freakishly strong when I'm feeling normal, and even more so when I'm in the grips of what can only be described as undiluted, all-encompassing rage.

The rage wasn't directed at Idiot Dog #1, who was just being a dog. The rage was directed at whoever let them out, and all the idiot people who were watching me and making comments like "You should use a leash." No shit dumbass, I'm wearing slippers twice the size of my feet and boxer shorts while dragging my demon dog back towards the house. Does it look like we're out for a fucking Friday afternoon stroll?

I love the ghetto. Love it. Stupid piece of shit fucking place with stupid piece of shit fucking people who let fucking dogs out. Except the woman in the parking lot. Her, I like a whole lot.