On This Day- August 16th... Junior Comes Home

Butch was dog #3. He came to us as an orphan, as they all do. He was 4 years old when he joined our family & we only had 9 years with him, not long enough.

Butch was a serious & stalwart little dog. In 2004, he broke his foot, but never complained. We never would have known, if we had not noted that one foot was 60 degrees turned outward. Butch was spirited & spry in his squirrel patrol, but in all other ways he was calm & composed canine.

We loved Butch beyond all measure & although his passing was sudden & swift, we grieved deeply when he went to doggie heaven. I still have never really recovered from the loss.

Butch & his Dad, July 2007

I waited an acceptable 3 days before orphan #4 joined us at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia. I had told myself that I was open to another dog & I would take my time to find another deserving orphan needing a home. But, there he was on Craigslist in my first minute of searching. The post told the sad tale: in the countryside, outside of Portland, the little Jack Russell mix had been tied to a tree with a lead of rope, for a year. The trucker who had him would bring the young dog food & water, but not much else. A neighbor of this pitiful puppy, explained to me: “Out in the country, we don’t tell each other what to do with our animals, but I just couldn’t take seeing him every day, all alone, with no love & no activity. So I dognapped him & I need for someone to take him fast so that I can take down the Craigslist post & not get found out.”

I emailed this animal savior, telling him that I was at home & I would meet this terrier. I said yes to the dog staying with us on first glance, even though the first thing the little dog did on arrival was vomit.

For the first 36 hours, I thought that the new terrier might have escaped, but then I would spy him out of the corner of my eye as he skittered around the edges of the back garden. On day 3, while I was sitting in the Boys’ Fort, the dog cautiously approached me & laid his head on my knee. I looked down at him & started to speak, but he was gone in a flash. But, the next approach lasted longer, & the next longer still.

He came with the name- Junior & we decided that was a name that was fine by us. He had been through enough in his first year of life without having a name change, the only one of the 6 dogs that we have shared our lives with to not be christened with a new moniker. Junior. It fit him.

The poor Husband has never had a say in the choosing of a dog. Starting with a terrier mix by the name of baby in 1985, I have brought each of them home, often with no discussion. I mean, I don’t rearrange the furniture & he doesn’t choose the children. The Husband has been devoted to & delighted by each of our orphans.

Only 3 days after Butch’s taking leave, Junior was a part of the family. Like Butch, he is strong & stouthearted, but unlike Butch, he is a little slow. I see so much of his predecessor in him, but of course, Junior is his own animal.

Junior started life living outside with no comforts & no attention. Now he sleeps on pillows & is reminded that he is loved every day. Junior has been a member of our family & a resident at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia for 5 years today, August 16^th. 

Born On This Day- August 10th... Writer, Mark Doty

Mark Doty is my favorite American poet, in a league with Walt Whitman & Frank O’Hara. Elegant, unflinching, sometimes melancholy, his imagery haunts me. I appreciate the duality of the rural & the urbane in his work, indeed, he describes the plant life of a vacant city lot. Like the poet, as a gay man I have always sought out a life in an urban center while being enchanted by a cabin at the beach. I have attempted to take my city lot & make a place for nature. A tiny attempt at both worlds.

Doty: "I've always been a poet who wrote about urban life because I love the layers & surprises & the jangly complexities of cities. I feel at home in cities, being a gay man. It's a place of permission & possibility. In 1990, I moved to Provincetown. I also love this landscape of salt marshes, beaches & dunes, but I had to write about it in a different way. In the marsh, there is no narrative. All that happens is that a bird flies by, the tide comes in & goes out."

His poetry also addresses the artifice & the natural: "I play around with the distinction between art & nature, the real & the false. My experience often feels pretty seamless. . . I've always been drawn to artifice & the beauties of surface and shadings and tone. A lot of the process of development is figuring out how to be all of yourself in a poem. How do you let your love of wigs & make-up, your sense of humor, your anger find its way into the poem?"

My husband & I have lived with, loved & buried 4 dogs. Just this past week we lost a canine friend of an important player in our lives, a dog loved as if she was our own. Doty’s poetry collections have altered my point of view & his language has transported me. But, it is a work of prose that has moved me the most. I read his lovely Dog Years: A Memoir in 2 sittings, ironically taking a break only to walk my terriers. A meditation on life & loss & the method that grief squeezes into your life & never lets go, Doty tells of the life he shared with his 2 dogs as he experiences the decline & death of a partner from HIV, & how the canines move & affect a new relationship with a new love & future spouse.

How many ways have all my dogs had a profound affect on how I have dealt with the heights & valleys of my life & my 30 year marriage? The Husband & I have had a dog, usually 2, for nearly all our time together. At one point, I think we stayed a couple because of the dogs.

In Dog Years, Doty, in an improbable decision, adopts a dog as a companion for his dying partner. Beau is a large golden retriever, possibly abused & in need of love & companionship. Beau is made part of the family, paired with Arden, another retriever, & Doty’s partner- Wally. Beau responds well to his new life, & bounces back to life. The 2 dogs become Doty's best friends, comfort, & the reason to keep going on the worst of days. The canines’ moxie, loyalty, & love give him hope when all else fails.

Dog Years is a moving & intimate memoir with profound meditations on the life we share with animals & the lessons they teach us about life, love, & loss. Doty gives me a view of the vulnerability of dogs, how they rely on us, & the positive outlook they bring, & the gift of unconditional love. Dog Years is unsentimental, but intensely, mournfully, movingly affecting. We all will have to deal with loss. This book will help just a little bit.

The very handsome Mark Doty’s work has been honored by the National Book Critics Circle Award, the PEN/Martha Albrand Award for First Nonfiction, the Los Angeles Times Book Prize, a Whiting Writers Award, a Lila Wallace-Reader’s Digest Writer’s Award, & the T.S. Eliot Prize. He has received fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, the Ingram Merrill Foundation, & the Dorothy & Lewis B. Cullman Center for Scholars & Writers at the New York Public Library. He is a professor at the University of Houston. Doty lives in NYC, Fire Island, & Provincetown with his equally handsome & talented husband- writer Paul Lisicky.

We are the same age, along with a love of men, & dogs, Mark Doty & I are both bloggers. I don't impy that we are in the same league & now I must sign off. Lulu & Junior are waiting for their morning walk.

That Sinking Feeling

That ship hit that iceberg 100 years ago tonight, spawning one sober & sad movie in 1953 & for me (& seemingly me alone), one nearly intolerable, but award winning film in 1997, plus a Broadway musical from the same year that admonished:“In every age mankind attempts / to fabricate great works at once / magnificent & impossible.”

On every anniversary, the International Ice Patrol, founded in response to the sinking, drops a memorial wreath on the Titanic’s last reported position. The world will just not stop remembering.

There were 12 canines on the doomed ocean liner, 3 survived. One of the survivors was a Lady, a Pomeranian. Lady’s owner was Margaret Hays of NYC,  who wrapped her in a blanket & carried her into a lifeboat.

Also living to enjoy another biscuit were Sun Yat-sen, a Pekingese belonging to Henry & Myra Harper of  Harper & Row publishing & another Pomeranian, this one belonging to a Rothschild.

The 9 dogs confined in the onboard kennel, walked, fed & cared for by the crew, all died. A pair of dogs belonged to American coal magnate William Carter, who reassured his worried children that their pets were safe as they clambered into the lifeboats. His daughter Lucy was later compensated $100 by Lloyds of London for her King Charles spaniel, while his son Billy received $200 for his Airedale.

The other dogs that perished included a pair of Airedales owned by John Jacob Astor IV, a Fox Terrier named Dog, a toy poodle belonging to Helen Bishop, & Gamin de Pycombe- a French Bulldog.

There was a Great Dane owned by Ann Elizabeth Isham, who visited her dog at the ship's kennel daily & when she was evacuating, she asked to take him also. When she was told the dog was too large, she refused to leave without him & got out of the lifeboat. They were found floating days later, Isham still clutching her beloved large dog.

The crew often had at least one cat on board each ship to help keep the rat population down. There was a cat with young kittens aboard the Titanic but when the ship arrived in Southampton from Belfast, she was seen disembarking. Up and down the gangplank she went, retrieving one kitten at a time that she deposited on the dock. She & the kittens quickly disappeared. It is supposed the she had a premonition that the voyage wasn't going to be a smooth sailing.

Mansfield Menagerie Monday

Alas, poor Jayne -- toward the end, her pets had more good hair days than she did.

The Power Of Pussy

I am compelled to come out of the closet. I was afraid of what society would think. I needed to face my own self loathing. I have known for some time, but I have not been strong or honest. I have stood on the sidelines as friends & co-workers came out publicly, only to be ostracized, ridiculed, fervently prayed over, & physically harmed. It didn’t take long to learn who their friends were, who tolerated them, & who would no longer have anything to do with them. But now I that I am coming out of the closet, I am discovering strength & spirit.

I feel it is my responsibility to give my top reasons to come out of the closet.

1. Honesty – You just don’t wake up one day & discover that there is something “different”... well, maybe you do. For me it was a process, like baking a cake–except here you don’t get to lick the spoon. Coming out offers you an opportunity to live an honest lifestyle. Some people will say: “It’s nobody’s concern”, except this is a big part of your own experience & that regardless of what you think, it is already everybody’s business. Coming out isn’t about the world, it’s about you. If you decide to come out, consider all the pressures that are lifted; no more lying, sneaking, or carrying the guilt. It’s that negative part of “the secret” that adds to stigma that is wrong. Revaluate why you keep hiding it. To be honest with yourself will give you power.

2. Increased Self-Esteem – Something happens after you come out. You discover other people just like you & you no longer feel isolated from the world. You feel better about yourself & your decision, which adds value to your life. Looking in the mirror becomes a beautiful thing & it gets better with time. You are not a stereotype.

3. The Power of Tolerance – Coming out not only frees you from the bonds of secrecy but it also prepares you for the rest of your  life & all it throws at you. You become more tolerant towards others. Now that I am open, I try to be tolerant of those struggling with their issues but it isn’t always easy. You realize that once upon a time you were having the same issues & magically out of nowhere, the tolerance arrived like fairy dust.

4. Accept It – Although it doesn’t define you, it is a new part of your life & only a small part of who you are. You are like a pie chart & it’s up to you to divide that pie & assign the values. Is this going to take up 1% of your existence or 99%? There’s no correct value & it will fluctuate from time to time depending on what’s going on in your life. But no matter how much value you assign to your new acceptance, avoid the things that feel dangerous or uncomfortable.


So right here, on my little spot on the Internet. I want the world to know that I am an out & proud… I have a cat. Yes, I have a cat. I can say it. I am moving past the embarrassment & shame.

Oh, no! There is a cat in the house!

Nearly a year ago, & with his harrowing hard luck story, we allowed RCK to live in our basement rather than under bridges & in parks. He brought with him, his ancient cat. RCK did something very bad & he is now in prison, leaving his few belongings & his feline in our basement.

Henry is a sagacious, very old cat with a sweet disposition. With RCK gone, I explained to The Husband that Henry could live us. I was not about to have him put down, & finding a home for a 16 year old cat on Craigslist appeared futile. So, Henry stays. But, I was firm that he would live in the basement. We could bring him upstairs on occasion & even outside if we were sitting in the back garden. I felt that Henry would be content & glad not to be on the streets. We have a nice, clean, dry basement & Henry made a cozy spot for himself on a shelf of stored linen.


Lulu was indifferent to Henry, but Junior was not happy one little bit. He hated the cat & for hours, he would stare through our glass door to the basement landing with the cat on the other side.

Leaving the basement door ajar, Henry started sneaking upstairs. Over time he insinuated himself into the traffic & rhythms of the main floor & was soon napping on the backs of the daybeds. There were hisses & growls, Henry had his tail nipped & Junior had his face slapped. Lulu rose above the fray.

Now, we are a family of 5. I was able to say to strangers: “I have a husband, 2 terriers & a very lucky old cat… that’s right, I am out & proud & I have a cat.

Coming Up Rose's What?

Ethel Merman in the original Broadway production of Gypsy, 1959

"They've nicknamed her husband the Lizard of Roz, and what they call Rosalind Russell I can't repeat -- but it does rhyme with 'witch,' and you'll find her sort in a kennel!" - Ethel Merman

Rosalind Russell in Gypsy (1962, Warner Bros.)

Junior

Lulu

I Love How You Love Me

Details From Post Apocalyptic Bohemia

The terriers each found a spot in the sun. Let me introduce Lulu (above) & Junior (in the photograph below).

September Song...Goodbye My Friend

Oh we never know where life will take us

I know it's just a ride on the wheel

& we never know when death will shake us

& we wonder how it will feel

So goodbye my friend

I know I'll never see you again

But the time together through all the years

Will take away these tears

It's okay now

Goodbye my friend

I've seen a lot things that make me crazy

& I guess I held on to you

We could've run away & left, well maybe

But it wasn't time & we both knew

So goodbye my friend

I know I'll never see you again

But the love you gave me through all the years

Will take away these tears

I'm okay now

Goodbye my friend

Life's so fragile & love is so pure

We can't hold on, but we try

We watch how quickly it disappears

& we never know why

But I'm okay now

Goodbye my friend

You can go now

Goodbye my friend

Karla Bonoff

1989

All Dog Stories Have The Same Ending

Larry Dog

1998-2011

It is a heartbreaking, crushing sensation to schedule your dog's death, but that is what we had to do. One could think that I would be somewhat hardened by experience, having had to schedule the endings of 2 other dogs before him. Only Butch (1992-2007) went suddenly. It was a blessing. The horror of scheduling Larry's demise was that everything was a "last": his last Thursday, his last Friday, his last full day, his final "last call for potty", his last cookie.

Larry, like so many animals & people in our lives, was an orphan. To be fair, Larry was much loved by his original family, who decided to give him up because he was nipping at the toddler. Jack Russell Terriers, cute though they may be, are not the best dog for a household with children. They do not have the patience of a Lab or Golden Retriever, having their tails pulled & being rode like a pony.

Larry's first family were distraught over the choice of giving him, but relieved that he was going to a terrier keen couple who would provide him with a loving home with lots of walks & lots of cookies. Larry would be our 4th terrier.

Larry was the Eric Cartman of canines (I hope you understand the South Park reference): entitled, perpetually petulant, food obsessed & sassy. He would actually grumble under his breath as he walked across the room. Larry was as tenacious as any terrier I have encountered. We were initially timorous at his ultra-terrier comportment, often stubborn & selfish. His original family stopped to visit him once after had been with us 3 years, & we were shocked that he behaved as an angel dog in their presence. When they left he immediately started to swear under his doggy breath: "god damn it, ggggrrr... give me a cookie & let's get back to the business of making me fulfilled, you gay daddies!"

Larry was not an affectionate dog, but he had his tender moments. He was very sweet on The Husband & The Husband would start each day with about 15 minutes of tummy & ear rubs & kisses with him, but soon Larry would have enough & he would give a huff of exasperation, saying to us: "I hate this mushy stuff. If you truly love me, you would give a caboodle of cookies!"

Lulu is our 6th dog in our 32 years as a couple. I surmise what it must be like to have several children. You love them all, but you love them differently. Larry was very different in personality & presence from the other 5 dogs: Overweight, hairy, spoiled, outspoken, lazy, & foul-mouthed. I know what you must be thinking... Larry seemed to be the perfect dog match for me. Junior is thin, sensitive & damaged by his past, making him an excellent match for The Husband. But Larry was very loved by me, especially loved by The Husband & amusing to our circle of friends.

Like those before him, we had the doctor come to our house so that his last moments would not be in a sterile, brightly lit room. He was in the home that he loved to be in (Larry was loath to go outside, if he could be inside on a pillow). His daddies had been crying for days. The past 8 weeks, Larry's hind legs no longer worked. We would carry him outside to pee. He would go about the house dragging his hind end, using his front legs only. He looked like a big dust mop.  At the end Larry was often not able to let us know that he needed to go out & we were left to deal with his "accidents" for several months.

Why do I feel the need to still convince myself that we are doing the right thing? Why is my heart so broken?

Good-bye, Larry Dog. You were loved. I will always think of you, you will not be forgotten. Give your buddy Butch (dog # 3) a butt sniff when you cross over to the other side. He has been waiting for you.

2006

Butch is in the background

Before he got too old, Larry liked to be king of the hill & sat atop the furniture.

His best friend was The Husband. Here is reminding Larry to wear sunscreen while tanning.

September Song... The Dog Song

I'm just a walking my dog

Singing my song

Strolling along

Yeah it's just me & my dog

Catching some sun

We can't go wrong

My life was lonely & blue

I was sad as a sailor

I was an angry one too

Then there was you

Appeared, when I was entangled

with youth, & fear, & nerves

Vermouth & beer

Were gettin' me mangled up

But then I looked in your eyes

& I was no more a failure

You looked so wacky & wise

& I said, lord I'm happy

'cause I'm just a walking my dog

Singing my song

Strolling along

It's just me & my dog

Catchin' some sun

We can't go wrong

Because I don't care about your hating & your doubt

& I don't care what the politicians spout

If you wanna companion

Well just go right to the pound

& find yourself a hound

& make that doggie proud

Because that's what it's all about

My life was tragic & sad

Yeah I was the archetypal loser
I was a pageant gone bad

Then there was you on time

& wagging your tail

In the cutest mime

& you was in jail

I said woof, be mine

& you gave a wail

& then I was no longer alone

& I was no more a boozer

We'll make the happiest home

& I said lord, I'm happy

Because I'm just a walking my dog

Singing my song

Strolling along

It's just me & my dog

Catchin' some sun

We can't go wrong

Because I don't care about your hating & your doubt

& I don't care what the politicians spout

If you need a companion

Well just go right to the pound

& find yourself a hound

& make that doggie proud

Beause that's what it's all about

That's what it's all about

That's what it's all abow-wow-wow-wout

That's what it's all about

Nelly McKay
2004

CSI: Post Apocalyptic Bohemia

Junior & Lulu at couples counseling

Early this morning, while having tea in the Boys' Fort, The Husband committed himself to cutting Junior's nails, something that in the past has been done by professionals. He unintentionally cut into the quick & the poor little canine was bleeding. I took him for a long walk thinking he would stop with the bleeding by our return & the cool, clean, condensation of the grass in the park would feel good on his toes.

When we returned home, Junior seemed to be doing well. I drove The Husband to a job in NW Portland & when I returned I opened the door to what looked like a crime scene. Nearly ever surface was stained with blood, including the white shag rug in the front room, the newer sofa, the antique Belgian, circa 1820s, sofa, the wooden floors, the rug in the back room... blood splatters everywhere.

I was able to clean & recover everything with a terrific product- Nature's Little Miracle stain remover, but it took me hours of blotting to get the place recovered. I haven't spent that much time on my knees since the summer of 2007, another story for another day.

Born On This Day- September 10th... Rin Tin Tin

Born on a battlefield in World War I, Rin Tin Tin went on to be an American movie star & icon. Rin Tin Tin is credited with saving Warner Brothers from bankruptcy in the 1920s. He received 2,000 fan letters a week, that’s 286 a week in dog years. He remained a huge star until the talkies did him in.

Born on a battlefield in World War I, Rin Tin Tin went on to be an American movie star & icon. 2 months before the war would end, an American soldier- Corporal Lee Duncan discovered a bombed out German war dog station while on a scouting mission. Inside he found a shell shocked mother German Shepherd & her 5 puppies.

Not wanting to leave them helpless, Duncan brought them back to his base where he took care of them. When he returned home to California, Duncan brought Rin Tin Tin with him. Rin Tin Tin was named after small dolls French soldiers carried for good luck.

Duncan settled into his home in L.A. & he became interested in the new movie industry. Knowing his dog was special, he made the rounds of the studios, but they showed little interest in a canine movie star.

Finally he got his big break when he came upon a crew shooting a scene with a wolf. Rin Tin Tin was able to perform a feat in 1 take that had frustrated the crew trying to work the scene with a real wolf.

In 1922, Rin Tin Tin ( his friends called him "Rinty") , made his debut in a low budget western called The Man from Hell's River. He did all his own on screen stunts.

Rinty’s charisma, good looks, fearless ability & acting talent attracted the attention of the struggling Warner Brothers studio. Together they made 24 films that helped establish the new studio & made Rin Tin Tin a household name, & a magazine cover boy.

At the height of his celebrity, Rinty earned a salary of $1000 a week, had his own production unit, a chauffeur driven limousine, a personal chef & a diamond studded collar. Not much is known about his personal life, but Rinty was spotted at several underground gay spots around Hollywood. Although he was quite a stud, siring 48 pups, including a favorite named Junior, Rin Tin Tin was known to hump male stunt dogs & was very probably bisexual.

In 1930 in an ungrateful gesture, Warner Brothers released Rinty. He was forced to work low budget serials. He admitted to a Milk- Bone addiction & went into rehab. After 40 movies, he retired in 1931.




Following Rin Tin Tin's death in 1932 in L.A. (in the arms of actress Jean Harlow, according to Hollywood legend), Duncan arranged to have the dog returned to his country of birth for burial in the Cimetière des Chiens, the famous pet cemetery in the Parisian suburb of Asnières-sur-Seine.

His son, Junior went on to appear in movies following the death of his father. Rin Tin Tin is one of 3 dogs to have a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame along with Strongheart & Lassie.

As a child, I was devoted to The Adventures of Rin Tin Tin, an ABC television series that ran from 1954 to1959. It featured Rin Tin Tin IV as the star.

Andy Warhol... Party Animal

Andy & Archie by Jack Mitchell

Andy Warhol had a passion for party animals animals, especially canines. He brought his dachshund- Archie along to his many events & travels. I have lived a life filled with regrets, including not trying to infiltrate the Factory crowd when I lived in Manhattan in the 1970s... but then again, it might have done me in.

Archie 1976

Great Dane 1976

Portrait of Maurice 1976

Blue Pussy 1954

Andy & Archie by Jamie Wyeth 1975

Summer Songs #25... Me & My Arrow

Me & my Arrow

Straighter than narrow

Wherever we go, every one knows

It's me & my Arrow

Me & my Arrow

Taking the high road

Wherever we go, everyone knows

It's me & my arrow

& in the morning when I wake up

She may be gone, I don't know

& we make up just to break up

I'll carry on, oh yes I will

Me & my Arrow

Straighter than narrow

Wherever we go, every one knows

It's me & my arrow

Me & my Arrow

Harry Nilsson

1971

This Really Happened To Me

They love it, & to give them pleasure is a pleasure for me, in fact, I have no satisfaction that compares to giving pleasure to a preferred human or canine, they respond so tangibly. Junior & LuLu  are so happy taking a long walk, being the facilitator of the doggie journey brings a reward I sometimes take for granted.

Junior & LuLu after their big adventure

A sublime summer morning, 70s, sunny a slight breeze, the 3 of us set off for some sunlight, sniffing & scenery. One of the perks of pedestrianism is discovering all of the disarming dwellings & plants in the neighborhood, details that are never noticed when driving an automobile.

I am challenged with the chance to wear the terriers down. We have been on a considerable course when I slyly lead the pack towards home. We made our way through the squirrel populated Kenton Park & cross at the intersection  catty corner from the post office & the beginning of the small business district. The 3 of us cross the intersection as an automobile slows, but does not stop at the sign, missing us by inches.

The Husband is unhappy that I have made a project of teaching the world the ways of good manners & proper etiquette, but this morning I have no self resistance to reminding a driver when the rules of driving decorum have been broken. I kicked the car as it passed. The delicate lady driver slams on the brakes, rolls down the window & declares: "What the fuck is your problem? You kicked my car!"

Stephen: "You have just failed high school drivers' ed. First, when there is a stop sign, one must stop, look to the right, left & right again, & with no obstacles, one may proceed. Slowly in a park zone or high pedestrian area."

Delicate Lady Driver: " You snuck up on me...  you were not at the corner when I looked! Who do you think you are? What the fuck is your problem? You kicked my car. There better not be damage!

Delicate lady Driver, puts her killer driving machine in park, & in the middle of the intersection, gets out to inspect the damage made by my summer yellow Jack Purcell sneakers. At the large white house at the intersection, a grandma has been watering her petunias, marigolds & tomatoes. She has been witness the the entire episode. We make eye contact, having chatted on occasion.

my weapon of choice

Grandma (remarks to me): "I really dislike it when the drivers don't stop, or when they almost mow down a person walking. It really gets me!"

The delicate lady driver demands that I approach her & her assaulted auto, but before I have a chance to taunt her once more, Grandma turns her potent power hose on the lady driver! I couldn't believe it was happening! A sweet senior blasts the bitch with water, soaking her, & scolding: " I really don't like when people don't stop for the people in the crosswalk. It really makes me mad!"

Stephen (to the Grandma): "Wow! I have never had someone defend my honor like that! Thank you! Thank you! You are my hero!"

Grandma: "Honey, she almost hit you & the puppies & then she was blaming you! She had it coming. My sister & I see you walking all the time & we call your doggies 'kibble & bits'... there goes that nice man & his darling 'kibble & bits'. I really got her good, huh? She will think twice the next time she stops at this intersection!"