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Yesterday I took Flynn the dog for a jog around the North Pelham ball park. Just after we arrived a car screeched to a stop and the young man inside rolled the window down.
"Do you mind If I let my dog run free?
He's a Golden. Friendly."
My eyes narrowed.
Golden.Friendly had just about taken my hand off the last time we crossed paths at the park.
The driver must have recognized me at that point because he said nervously, "On second thought I think we'll drive around for a bit."
Which was a good thing.
I don't have a lot of patience anymore for people who own animals that like to nibble on human flesh.
Years ago I was in a pet shop one Saturday afternoon because, even though I couldn't afford to own one, I liked to scratch the heads of the parrots.
Heading towards my favourite bird, I set my purse down on the floor to free up my parrot-head-scratching hand and promptly felt a pain in my ankle.
I lifted my leg.
There was a ferret hanging off my ankle by its teeth.
Now this presented a problem because I didn't know what to say.
I don't mean that I didn't know what to say to the ferret.
I mean I didn't know how to let the other people in the store know that I had a problem.
For some reason screaming "HELP" seemed more like the kind of action you would take if you were being attacked by a pit bull.
I was under attack by six inches of fur and it was embarrassing.
On the other hand it hurt.
I surreptitiously shook my leg and glanced around hoping no one had noticed.
People passed by me, chatting and laughing, not realizing the bloodletting and horror unfolding at ground level.
On the embarrassment scale the situation had the potential of being a 10.
Maybe a 10+.
But how, in the middle of a crowded store, does a middle aged school teacher lady get rid of a rodent that is attached to her ankle and retain her dignity?
The answer is that she can't.
In total humiliation I had to hobble to the cash register, dragging the enraged ferret behind me.
When I was close enough I lifted my leg and shook the ferret at the guy at the cash register.
"CINDY!" he cried in an ecstasy of love. "Oh Cindy! I wondered where you went!"
And then, rather than being all apologetic and letting me take one of the parrots home for free with a giant cage and a lifetime supply of food, he accused ME of putting my purse on poor Cindy's head, thus being the cause of my own misfortune!
I tell you, my friends, there's no justice in this world.