I am a dog owner. I love my dog. My dog is awesome as hell and possibly a genius. But you know what? I keep that little shit on a leash, because he is a DOG.
No I don't think it's so hilarious when your footloose, fancy-free retard mutt comes charging around the corner at us, with you nowhere in sight.
No, I am not comforted by you calling out “He’s friendly!” before turning back to share more insipid banter with your equally vapid cunt of a soy-latte-toting girlfriend, while I’m struggling to keep our animals separated, calm, and safe, you TWAT.
No, I am not entertained by taking time out of my day to chase down your wandering cur, and drag it around the neighborhood looking for your oblivious ass.
And I feel really bad for your idiot dogs who run across the goddamn street when they see my (awesome) dog and don't listen to your feeble attempts to call them back. There are these things called CARS that drive down streets that don’t care how friendly little Bailey or Chloe (or whatever stupid baby-replacement name you gave your poor untrained, unleashed accessory dog) is.
I've already been to the ER for one dog bite this year. If your dog starts shit with my dog, and you are blocks away grinning like a horsefly on a manure heap, I will kick your dog in the fucking face, grab it by the hind legs and hurl it at you like a writhing sandbag of pain, you pus-brained pile of dumbassery. Fuck. You.