To My Nincompoop Neighbors

When you see me walking my dog, do not wink at me and ask:


"So who's walking who?"


You know what? I'M walking my dog! That's how it works. Yes, my dog is very big but do you see him pulling on the leash? No, he is walking WITH me people. You aren't being clever, you aren't being funny, I've heard it many many times before. In fact you've probably already asked me that many many times before!



If you would have asked me this 6 years ago, it would have been different. Yes, when he was a puppy, he was the one doing the walking. As many of you have witnessed, Dozer would take off after some poor sap dragging me behind him.

Yes, I've been tripped, tangled, mowed across the grass, skid across the ice, dragged through the snow, and trampled in the dirt.

Yes, I've had both knees bloodied, (and scarred now thank you Dozer) both elbows slammed onto the pavement, the leash burned into my hand, and even had my arms ripped out of their sockets.


Yes folks, I am armless.





But that was then. It has taken a lot of training (and tricking) my dog into submission on our walks so isn't it obvious now who is walking who? I've worked hard to be the one on the right side of the leash.


So let's get it out on the table right now.


I am walking Dozer.
Dozer is not walking me.


If you are the next fool who asks me that question, I will feed you to my dog.

Then we'll see who's walking who!




Good boy.