Today when I was walking in the door with Sharky we were rushed by a senior pug sans owner.
"HE'S NOT FRIENDLY!" I screamed to an empty hallway, kicking my dog through the door. Mystery pug followed. Everything was chaos and a dogfight ensued in my kitchen.
I've never broken up a dogfight without the other owner. I tried ripping the strange dog away but the he just struggled and screamed out of my arms. He smashed facefirst into the tile and my dog plowed back into him.
Not sure how but I finally scooped up the pug and slammed the door on Sharky's face. It was total velociraptors-in-the-kitchen shit.
I spent a moment in the hallway doing mental dry heaves. This pug forgot, or forgave, or never cared in the first place, and danced around kissing my face. At some point his harness had fallen off so I looked at it to confirm there were no tags. Of course.
Now I had to come to grips with the fact this missing, nameless dog was my responsibility. (The animal hoarder inside whispered "We can keep him forever. We'll make it work.") But then there was faint whistles. The dog didn't respond so I cried to the darkness "IS SOMEONE LOOKING FOR A BLACK PUG?!"
The whistles faded in and out but I eventually flagged this person down. He was three floors below.
Turns some disengaged man WAS casually looking for his black pug! He got his dog and his harness. I started to explain what horrors transpired.
"He entered my house..." I say to somebody's back.
"Oh? Thanks!" floats a voice in the distance.
"....No problem!" I tell the speck on the horizon.
In conclusion if I ever had kids I'd totally punch the bad parents. Sometimes I feel crazy when I'm confronted by people who don't worry about dogs. Personally, I spend hours psychoanalyzing nose licking.
Now I'm on the couch trying to stop sweating. Sharky is by my side with a total "I sure nailed that fucker" attitude.