What a Jerk

To the jackass who drove up in my yard tonight to “give” me a hound to sell:

Clearly you didn’t know where you were, or who you were talking to. Did this look like a pet store to you? Did you see an “open” sign anywhere on the property? Actually, seeing as how it was dark outside, around eight p.m., I was already in bed, surrounded by ice packs trying to get my body temperature down since lupus makes that difficult to regulate. You sit out there blowing your horn, not even enough respect to get out of your vehicle and let me know what the problem is. By the time I stagger downstairs, you’re already at the tailgate of your truck taking the dog out. Lots of assumptions on your part. And a hell of a lot of disregard for whatever personal or health situation I might be facing.

Something you say makes it clear that you think I’m going to make money on this dog. And you really believe that. It shows how out of touch with reality you are. The minute that dog’s paws hit my ground, I’m out roughly sixty dollars for dewormer. Twenty more for rabies vaccine, and at least eight for core disease vaccine. That’s just for the 14-day quarantine. At the end of that quarantine, I’m out another eight for the second core disease vaccine, and around $100 for neuter, microchip, and heartworm test—all of which are required for transport to our rescue partner in Vermont. This doesn’t factor any health issues the dog might have. Count food, and you just dumped $300 worth of expense in my lap. Excuse me if I’m not prostrating myself at your feet in gratitude.

Liar

I tell you that my rescue is full to capacity. You act pissed that I’m not excited to take the dog. My goodness what a lovely attitude you have. You insist the dog was a stray, and then when I inform you that all strays must be reported to the county, you tell me you called the sheriff’s office, and they said they would not pick up the dog unless it was attacking you. I know you are lying to me. I know our animal control officers much, much better than that. I explain the law, that all strays must be reported to the shelter and provided a five-day stray hold. This doesn’t suit you, so you slam the tailgate and say you’ll take the dog up the road “a ways” and dump him in the woods.

Excuse me? Have you lost your damn mind?

Bully

I inform you that dumping animals is illegal. You call me a bitch and say I can’t tell you what to do. It’s hard for me to reconcile you looking like a little grandpa and calling me such ugly names. But you do have the stance and posture of a bully, and you lean in like you’re going to hit me. I think it surprises you when I don’t back down. I say you’re not going to dump the dog, that the sheriff’s office needs to be involved. You put your face in mine and threaten to “fuck me up.”

You make a move to leave. I plant myself behind your vehicle and refuse to move. By this point, every gesture you make is threatening. Fortunately for you, you take my advice and call 911. Except you don’t know how to dial 911. I have to explain it to you.

While you are on the phone with the 911 operator, I attempt to remove the dog from the dog box, since there’s no way I’m letting you dump him in the woods. You come over to me and start trying to wrestle him out of my hands. You tell me I’m not getting the dog. Hello? Didn’t you come here specifically to dump the dog on me? You shove me with your elbow, but I’m a big girl. I don’t budge. You shove me so hard, though, that it causes you to bounce back a step. All the while, you’re telling the 911 operator that you don’t hit women.

In almost the same breath, you tell me the 911 operator is not sending a deputy. Loudly enough for her to hear, I call you a liar. Because you are. This is the second blatant lie you have tried to tell me. At your age, you should know better. I wonder what kind of life you live, and how much your family has suffered over the years.

I take your leash off the dog and lift the dog from your dog box. I put him in my vehicle. Shortly afterward, the deputies arrive. I state on no uncertain terms that I wish to press charges. You have come onto my private property, verbally assaulted me, threatened to “fuck me up,” and shoved me. Granted, I suffered no physical injury or even discomfort. That doesn’t matter. Assault is assault. You had no right to disrupt my life the way you did, call me awful names, or lie to me repeatedly. I sincerely hope that law enforcement follows through on this and brings formal charges against you for these actions.

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