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A Quiet Riot With Words & Art

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The things I remember

A Quiet Riot With Words & Art

Shoot the fuckers

HonestInk,

I didn’t want to write about this but hours later it still keeps bubbling to the surface and filling me with anxiety and nausea and very close to tears.

This morning at the cemetery we had a very close encounter with an XL Bully. Something I never want to have again. If we we had been in the States I would have been armed with a handgun and the dog would be dead now without any shadow of a doubt.

We were walking our usual route and I didn’t see until we were a little nearer that that this elderly couple were staring right at us as if we were doing something wrong. Then I saw it’s big stupid beady eyed head and my stomach dropped.

It’s like a quick slice of a horror film played in slow motion: the old fella flat on his face fully stretched out on the grass and this huge fucking animal running at my dogs. It keeps playing over and over in my mind. A freeze frame of absolute horror as not only did I understand right at that moment that there was nothing I could do to stop this animal but that I was frightened for my own life too. I screamed and so did she and thankfully the dog obeyed and returned to her. I can’t remember the last time I felt so frightened.

She wouldn’t stop talking then about how soft it was and that everything had changed since the ban. That he now lived behind a 6 foot fence and couldn’t interact with other dogs any more. They were tending to a relatives grave and brought him here because it was quiet. So I listened and tried to sympathise and twice whilst doing so the dog ran towards me and she let go of the lead rather than fall like her husband had. I thank all the gods that she had trained him well and he obeyed her commands. it wasn’t pottering up for a stroke and a treat of that I am absolutely certain.

Because the crux of the thing is she couldn’t keep hold of him on his lead and neither could her husband. He was simply too big and too strong. He could have done anything he wanted should he have chosen to and not one of us humans could have stopped him without a weapon. As I hurried home feeling shaken and ill I was reminded of a wild animal at the zoo. It should be behind bars. There is no place for these dogs, anywhere.

EDIT – After trying Temu again for some pepper spray without success I thought of my trusty carpet/ heavy cardboard cutting Stanley and my little plastic tub of fresh blades. If half the country’s inbred and imported rap loving retards can carry huge machetes this old bid can carry her craft knife.😈

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