when walking the dog, nothing strikes fear into my heart faster than the sight of an approaching killer canine who is out walking its owner.
the fear ratchets up to code red if before i can begin a retreat plan, i hear the inevitable words of confrontation, “don’t worry, he's friendly”.
that is when my options run out.
i am forced to spill fantastic lies.
i respond, i’m sure he's very friendly but don’t let the pink bow on little “gia” here fool ya. she is vicious and will kill, given the opportunity. why, just three weeks ago she took down a ups truck, driver and all. i’d tell ya the details but we’re in litigation. gotta gag order from the second circuit court of hunterdon county!
(when i lie, they are shamefully detailed)
then i usually scoop up “gia”, who is already prone submissively on her back, offering up her nifty array of little nipplets.
the whole thing is a tough sell but it’s all i can do before she becomes a mid-morning snack.
and it usually works—i think because they actually believe me, as in, believe me to actually be a pathetic little man.