I have honestly come to hate little dogs, but only in a purely hypocritical way.
My parents have a Shi Tzu named Rocky, he’s awesome, cute as hell and they love him.
Everyone else’s little dog sucks.
Especially when you carry your yappy piece of shit into Starbucks.
When the dog is yapping non-stop, and you never stop your conversation with your friend to tell him to shut up, aside from the occasional “That’s momma’s baby!”, you are a rude old crone and your animal should be put down.
It has become an odd little clause of the social contract that we put up with this shit.
These used to be social conventions that basically amounted to common courtesy.
Now all of society is like a battered spouse, keep it to yourself, don’t make waves.
And on all too many occasions, we get slapped around for our trouble, without the obligatory “I’m sorry, baby.”
Ike Turner style.
A little like Gangnam Style, but with 80% more ass kicking.
However, with all of the screeching about gun control, shooting the little yapper out of her hands would be viewed negatively by local law enforcement, as well it should be.
But what if a well trained bigger dog came rushing in and snatched it out of her hands and ate it whole in front of her, then ran off at a complex toot of a training whistle.
And that whistle is not mine officer, someone put that on my table at Starbucks.
One of those awesome Alsatian Shepherds with the black mask.
Terrifying and cuddly at the same time.
They are also really trainable.
I used to have one that was also half wolf, one of my finest dogs of all time.
And he was a rescue.
Serious good karma there.
Unfortunately, he passed about 20 years ago, which explains why the little yappy dog and the old lady made it out of Starbucks unimpeded.
Better to save my karma for serious shenanigans.
One of the bad sides of having this type of semi-vile hyper creativity is that I sometime find myself knee deep in what you would call “Bad-Karma situations”.
And at those times, you dip into any banked good karma and hope for the best.
Before the voice in my head gets much louder, yes, not getting into trouble would be the best course of action.
But what fun is that?
Oat sowing continues long after you are old enough to know better.
You just have a better idea of what is acceptable and what is not.
However, beyond the old enough to know better means your mind can dream up some serious crazy shit.
Maybe its the coffee talking, and if it is, it certainly is not helpful.
Much like that friend that your mother is convinced is a bad influence on you.
And yet, I am going to give it another chance.
So, to sum up, always give coffee another chance.
As far as bad influences go, you could do worse.