To Kick a Dog

Status: Finished

To Kick a Dog

Status: Finished

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To Kick a Dog

Short Story by: Savior

Genre: Humor

Houses:

Short Story by: Savior

Details

Genre: Humor

Houses:

Summary

I kicked a dog, and made the owner think it was her fault.

Summary

I kicked a dog, and made the owner think it was her fault.

Content

Submitted: September 12, 2008

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Content

Submitted: September 12, 2008

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I first met a French Poodle when I was around nine years old. I was walking with my parents in a scenic park when this lady walked by with a large pack of dogs, including several French Poodles.

They tore into me like a pack of hungry hyenas, snarling and barking. I was never the same since.

Satisfaction came when I was fourteen. I was once again in a park, when a French poodle ran up and bared its fangs at me. I had no intention of allowing a dog to ruin my day in the park again.

I kept walking. Unfortunately, the dog chased after me.

I had just bought a fresh new pair of jeans, and was very proud of the clean look I was sporting. I had no wish to ruin a perfectly good pair of jeans, so I waited until the dog almost reached my pant leg.

And I kicked it as hard as I could in the ribs. The dog practically flew like a punted football, and rained down several yards away from me.

It lay there whimpering.

As I stood there enjoying my victory over my childhood fear, a woman in sweat pants and a sweater ran up and knelt by the dog.

“Aww, poor poochie. Who did this to you?” she gingerly asked the pooch.

Poochie got up and cowered before me, replying only a small yelp. I believe I must have knocked a lot of the air out of him.

“Did you do this?” the woman glared at me.

I put on a face of concern.

“Lady, step away from that dog! It has rabies!” I warned her.

Her facial expression was one of mixed shock and horror.

“Poochie? No. Poochie would never harm anyone,” she said, shocked.

I pointed at a spot on my jeans which I thought had a tear in the fabric. “It just bit me. When a domestic dog does that, it’s common procedure to have it put down and analyzed for rabies.”

I paused, as if struck by a sudden thought.

“You know, what is it doing without a muzzle anyways? Municipal law requires all dogs to be on a leash and muzzle when outside in the park areas. This dog must be a stray!” I exclaimed.

“We should call the pound immediately,” I told her, my face a study in concern.

The woman began to seem distraught. “Oh no, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. I know a vet nearby so I’ll just go take this dog to see him now,” she said hurriedly. She was quick to leave the park.

I was able to enjoy the rest of my day in the park peacefully and contently.


© Copyright 2016 Savior. All rights reserved.

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