44. Mutt

If that damn pooch shits on my lawn one more time, I’m gonna take a shit on him. Mark my words! Next dog log that shows up in my lawn, I’m marching over to that house – gonna walk in without knocking, find that little scoundrel, grab him by the collar, drag him outside, chain his arms and legs to industrial tent pegs stuck in the earth so he can’t move but a wiggle, and I’m gonna pull my sweat pants down and let it drop. It could take hours, but I’ll be down on my haunches, waiting it out, taking as many sick days as the post office will allow, concentrating hard, waiting as long as it takes – down on my haunches, as I believe I said. I’ll wait all goddamn day and all doggone night for that little shitting trespasser to see things my way. Next day, just watch – that lawn out there will look immaculate for once, and that canine trash is gonna be passing by on the other side of the street, afraid and ashamed. He probably won’t shit in any yard on the block, because he’ll remember, yeah, he’ll remember what happens to mutts that gone and messed with the Top Dog.

 

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