Dear Oblivious Bitch,
If your complete and utter obliviousness to those around you didn't cause me to lose sleep, it would actually be kind of funny.
This morning your dog woke me up at 6 a.m. with its shrill barking. I closed my window, turned on a loud fan, and tried to go back to sleep, desperate for more zzz's before the alarm was set to go off at 8. I got none. Your dog continued to bark incessantly for the next 2 hours. At 8 a.m., wide awake, I smashed my alarm off, ripped off my comforter, stomped out of bed and over to the window to see where this little hellhound was yapping from. Then I saw you on your front steps.
Sitting there, a cell phone in one hand and a leash connected to a min pin (miniature pinscher) in the other. What the hell is wrong with you?! You've been sitting on your apartment building steps for 2 hours talking on the phone while your shit-for-brains dog is barking into space? Who could you possibly be talking to for two hours at 6 a.m. outside? How can you possibly hear them over the banshee cries of your mutt? How can the person on the other line possibly hear you and tolerate it? Are they sitting on their stoop with a leashed up, rabid dog, infuriating all of their neighbors too? What a delightful little club you've started—the Stupid, Oblivious Bitches with Barking Bitches Club.
A middle-aged black woman, you are clearly old enough to grasp the concept of what you're doing. At any point in the past 2 hours you could have made your dog quiet down. I never once heard you yell at it. At any point you could have taken it inside and locked it up, put it in the dryer on high. At any point you yourself could have gone inside to finish your important conversation and taken your mutant offspring with you. At any point you could have gotten up and walked it down the street to the park not 2 blocks away—you know, the one not surrounded by sleeping people? You didn't. You took no action except sit there gabbing away, oblivious to anyone around you—including your dog. No better than a stupid teenager at the mall.
You left me no choice. I leashed up my own dog—an adopted 55 lb chow chow mix with a deep hatred for people of color (after a history of abuse), and headed out the door. We marched right over to your stoop and stood in front of it. Once your little yap-fiend saw my dog coming, he quieted right down. I stood above you, my dog tightly leashed at my side, but already starting to bark and snarl—as I myself would like to have done. Giving me a dirty look, you said your lengthy goodbyes to your friend and hung up the phone.
"You're a very rude boy," You said glaring at me. "I have every right to talk on the phone on my property. What's your problem? You don't know me. Get your dog away from me. He's mean."
"Hold on a second." I said flatly, and took out my cell phone.
I pretended to make a phone call while my dog continued his menacing barking and gutteral growls at you. You continued spewing nasty comments my way, but I just kept loosening my hold on the leash. My dog was slowly edging closer to you.
"Stop it right now!" You hollered, getting up and backing up a step. I slackened the leash. Closer he got.
"I mean it! Stop it right now before I call the cops!"
Closer.
"Get the hell away from me!"
Closer.
"Asshole!"
Closer
"Fuck you and your dog! You don't scare me!"
I let go of the leash.
"Ahhhh!" You cried and ran inside with Precious, slamming the door behind you.
With my foot on top of my dog's leash, he was secured the whole time. Next time, it won't be.
