I’ve mentioned that I parked cars, off and on, for ten years, at a nice prime rib restaurant in Long Beach, California.  That financed my way through my last two years of college and four years of law school.  I took care of about three dozen dogs, on a regular basis; their owners would come in, leave the dog with me in the parking lot, and go inside for dinner. The dogs loved me to death because I would go in the kitchen and get them prime rib bones, with lots of meat on them.   One dog that came in every Friday night, for several years, was a stocky black poodle named Jinx.  Jinx liked to show his dick to cute pubescent girls, but that’s a different story. One night I was taking care of Jinx, and a long-haired hippie meth-freak asshole, with his piece of shit scraggly-assed German Shepherd, walked by my lot, on the way to a market, on the corner.  They walked by about once a month, when I was in the lot.  The dog always had a leash attached to his collar, but the hippie NEVER held the other end of the leash; the dog just dragged it down the sidewalk. Jinx was on my lap, when Costa George, a prominent attorney in Long Beach, and his long-suffering girl-friend (they dated for TEN YEARS before he married the poor girl) came outside.  I put Jinx down and ran to get their car.  As I was driving it up to where they were standing, I saw the hippie, with a bag of groceries, and his dog, walking back towards where they lived.  I had no idea that something had happened.  When I got out of the car, Costa told me what had gone down. The Shepherd had viciously attacked Jinx, for no reason, and Costa had kicked the mangy cur in the head.  The hippie, who had made absolutely NO effort to get his dog off of Jinx, spoke up:  “Hey man, don’t be kicking my dog, man.”  Costa told him, “After I get through kicking your dog, you’re next, asshole.” The hippie scum then said,  “(Kissing sounds) Come on, boy, let’s go, come on.”

Two or three years later, on a beautiful summer day, in the late afternoon, I was taking care of Tag, a blond Cocker Spaniel/Wienie-dog mix.  Tag was on my lap, when a young couple who had never been there before and never came back, came out to get their car.  I put Tag on the ground (he was attached to my chair by a leash, as Jinx had been, and went to get their car.  Just before I got to their car, I heard Tag screaming because the Shepherd, who had passed my lot with his owner, ten minutes or so, before, was trying to kill him.  I couldn’t see what was happening, but I could see the hippie standing there, not trying to prevent his dog from killing Tag.  The young couple had run to the far side of the lot and were holding each other, obviously frightened.  As I was running full-tilt-boogie, I rounded the last car, and saw Tag on his back, with the Shepherd trying to rip his throat out.  At full speed, I intended kicking the Shepherd as hard as I could, in the rib cage.  I planted my left foot and swung my right leg at the Shepherd.  Half-way through the kick, I let up, and only kicked that piece of shit dog at about 50% of what I had originally intended, which I instantly regretted.  However the GSD let go of Tag and crouched down, only about six feet in front of me, with his fur sticking up, his ears back, his mouth open, showing his teeth, drool coming out of his mouth, and growling at me.  A CLASSIC pre-attack posture.  I could have drawn my gun, which I had down the front of my pants, and shot that fucking dog, and the cops would have given me an “Attaboy.”  Instead, I was so pissed off, that I was prepared to kill that dog with my bare hands.  I pointed my right index finger at the dog, and said, “You’d better back down, you asshole, or I will fucking KILL YOU.”  Hippie scum, “Hey, man, don’t be kicking my dog, man.”  At “KILL YOU,” the dog had instantly slammed its tail so far between it’s legs, that the full length of his tail was touching his belly, and started slinking away from me, towards his owner, to whom I addressed this message:  “Listen up, asshole, you’d better get you AND your dog, out of MY parking lot, or I will KILL YOUR DOG and stomp YOUR FUCKING ASS.”  (Emphasis in the original.)  Hippie scum, “(Kissing sounds) Come on, boy, let’s go, come on.”

Dog behaviorists will tell you to NEVER look a vicious dog in the eyes because that is an aggressive move which will cause the dog to attack you.  What they DON’T tell you, is that if you can convince the dog that it will get IT’S ass kicked, then it will back down.  That dog slunk all the way home, and I never saw them again.


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