Baskerville

Illustration by Bob AulYou got a heads-up a month ago when your huge dog chased my mom's 13-pound dog under a car and snagged it by the leg. But did you get the message? Nope. Your dog was off the leash again, crapping on your neighbor's lawn when it spotted my elderly mom walking her dog. Your killer hound was on her like she was made of steak. Here's an inventory of the damage: one freaked-out pet covered in slobber and one 75-year-old mom with a shattered upper arm, a knee requiring surgery, a dog bite to the hand, 25 stitches in the head and a twisted ankle.

You said you were sorry in a sort of perfunctory way, but then you don't get the pleasure of a plaster-cast vacation for the next three months. And don't forget the thrill of her new wheels: the wheelchair was delivered last week. I'm sure the adjustable hospital bed will be a blast.

Sorry yet? Wait for the moment my mom doesn't need crutches anymore because I know just where to put them.