It was bad enough when I saw you standing on the corner of 14th and Everett, leash in hand, oblivious, waiting for the walk light while your dog stood, unleashed, in the middle of 14th as traffic tried to maneuver around it.
But you had to top that, half block later, when your dog shit in front of my office door. I had just parked, was walking to get my parking ticket, and watched you walk away, steaming pile of freshly squeezed dog turds sitting there like Alpo soft serve. When I yelled after you whether you wanted to come clean that up, and if you needed a bag, your response was to walk back, scoop up the dog shit with your bare hand, and fling it at me. First, your aim sucks. Second, no, I'm not shaking your hand. And third, seriously, thanks for proving to the scientific community that humans are closely related to chimps.
There are good dog owners, bad dog owners, and crazy dog owners. Then there's you, ass in a hat, walking around the Pearl with the sweet smell of your dog's butt on your hand.
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