Violent Acres

Near my house, there is a dog park. In the 8 acre park, there is a lake, a sandy beach, and a few grassy hills complete with park benches and poop stations. I normally visit early in the morning, during the week, as to avoid Family Rush Hour. During Family Rush Hour, the park will literally be swarming with shrieking children and the two generic Walmart brand versions of the family dog. (Read: Labs and golden retrievers.) Early mornings, on the other hand, are generally quiet and peaceful with a few interesting, friendly dogs around fetching tennis balls out of the lake.

The only drawback to early mornings is these two middle-aged chicks who come in with their vicious little rat dogs. I searched all morning (Read: About 5 minutes) trying to figure out exactly what kind of dogs they have, but I came up empty. However, neither dog weighs more than 4 or 5lbs and they sort of look like pugs….only more rat-like.

Anyway, whenever this group shows up, it’s suddenly high drama at the dog park. Honestly, it’s kind of like stepping into the middle of an episode of 90210. Everyone starts frantically whispering, “The bitches are here! Be careful! The bitches are here!” And they sure as hell aren’t referring to the dogs.

No one likes The Bitches because while they possess two of the meanest dogs I’ve ever seen in my life, they still think it’s a good idea to let them run free at the dog park. On top of that, they spend the majority of their time there insulting everyone else’s dog. The Bitches turn their noses up at dogs that are not purebred. They insist that any dog weighing over 20lbs is dangerous and should be put to sleep. Loudly, they’ll brag about their little rat dogs being the best dogs in the world and often they’ll nastily proclaim that they feel sorry for anyone who has to own an inferior dog.

I, myself, have had only one run in with The Bitches. My girl was happily splashing around in the water with one of her mutt buddies, when one of The Bitches shuddered and said, “Is that your dog?”

“Yes, she is.”

“How could you own a dog like that!” she chastised, “Don’t you know that she could turn on you and kill your in your sleep? How would you feel if she killed someone here today?”

I was amazed by her comments. Mainly because as she was making them, her little rat-thing was busy attaching itself to the throat of a confused Chow a couple of yards away.

Very sweetly, I told her, “Ma’am, it’s more likely that I’d kill you before my dog would.”

She sniffed and sauntered away while the owner of the incredibly well behaved mutt laughed heartily. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone shut her up!” he told me.

“Well, I do have a particularly sharp letter opener in my car!” I replied, “Just saying!”

Unfortunately, I did not shut The Bitches up for good. Now, every time they see me, they grab their little pooches and announce to the whole goddamn park: “Oh no! It’s the lady with the dangerous dog! We better to get away from here quick before it snaps and kills someone!”

It’s times like these that I wish my dog was vicious. Instead, I have to comfort myself with the knowledge that before we leave, I’ll command my oh so dangerous dog to take a healthy jumbo sized shit directly behind the tires of their SUV.

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