oh, NO!!!!!!!!!
So, Missy asked me to cat-sit for the week. No problem. And she rewarded me beforehand by leaving me a bag (A BIG BAG) of assorted candy on her kitchen table. I will have to talk to her about gestational diabetes when she gets back. In the meantime, I think I have eaten my weight in waxy chocolate (Hey, did you know that Swedish Fish are a fat free food? I think that is a bit of a stretch. I wouldn't call them food...I think it's false advertising. Maybe if it said it was a fat free substance I wouldn't be so offended).
Anywho, the first two days went fine (although, the dog, Blackie, was extremely moody. She kept following me around asking where everyone had gone and what she had done wrong.). Today...well...today was a bad day.
No, the cats weren't dead. At least, I don't think so...Somebody is eating the cat food, though I haven't seen any cats.
No, nobody broke in.
It actually had nothing to do with Missy's house.
As we drove down the street away from Missy's house, a small blob of fur decided it could take my car, and went kamikaze into the jaws of the Blazer. I smashed my foot on the brake and felt a small bump bump. Now, before you call me a dog killer (yes, the blob was actually a flat-nosed Pug. I thought I had killed Otis. Milo will never forgive me.), just for the record, my car does that when I stop hard anyway, so I am not entirely sure I actually hit the dog. Anyway, I stopped the car pronto, jumped out and braced myself for the bloody mess, that actually wasn't a bloody mess, and the non-bloody mess ran away, limping, into its backyard. Hey, it's still alive, right??
I pulled the car over to the side of the road, and ran up to the house and rang the doorbell. I heard people inside...people actually passed by the door...I knocked...heard them talking some more...
I pulled the car over to the side of the road, and ran up to the house and rang the doorbell. I heard people inside...people actually passed by the door...I knocked...heard them talking some more...
What do I do?? Should I go back tomorrow and confess my accidental transgression??? Is it my fault? Should I pay for the ugly dog's medical bills??? What if its leg has to be amputated?? What if it is scarred for life and it's my fault it won't go anywhere near cars? Is that necessarily a bad thing??? Isn't it the owner's fault that their dog was running around playing chicken with random SUVs??? Does it make sense that I feel lots of guilt for hitting something that should be put out of its misery anyway because it can't breathe properly through its "nose"??? AAAHHHRRRGGG!!
Anyway...
Anyway...
Tell me, dear readers, what should I do??
Comments
Never mind the fact that these people obviously didn't seem to care that their dog was running around the neighborhood like a little hooligan.