The fucking little yap dog just *bit* me. Jesus *Christ*. I went out for a walk without Chanti this evening and the stupid goddamned little dog came charging out, and I figured there wasn’t any reason to yell it off, because I figured its big deal was the 80 pound dog.
No. Not so much. It came snapping and barking at my ankles and I told it to get off and it ran around in a circle and then came up and fucking *bit me on the ankle*. I’ve got a raised bruise on the back of my goddamned calf. Fucking little *monster*. I turned right the fuck around and went and rang its owner’s doorbell, because Jesus fucking *Christ*. I mean, great, you know, I hate to complain, because Ugly American, but the fucking dog *bit* me. The owner apologized and said he was putting up a gate to keep it in and expressed astonishment, but fuck this, let’s hear it for ugly americanism. If there’s an animal control number, or something of that ilk, next time that little monster charges me and Chantico I’m fucking well calling it. I cannot *believe* it *bit* me.