You were the sweet-looking lady who smiled at me while struggling to hold your bulldog over the drinking fountain so he could slobber all over the faucet that I was about to get a drink from at Castaways Park. I was on a run, and it was about 90 degrees out, so I could understand why your dog might be thirsty, but there was a dog bowl right next to the fountain that was full of clean water and not being used. There were no other dogs in the line for the dog bowl—however, there was someone in line for the drinking fountain. Did you want me to get on all fours and drink from the bowl? I waited for a little more than a minute and a half as your dog bathed in his own drool. Just before deciding to cut my anger and quench my thirst back home, you gave a laugh and looked down at your dog, then up at me. I know you wanted me to say that I think your dog is funny, that I think your dog is cute. Your dog is NOT cute; your dog disgusts me. How about I let my dog who loves to eat poop make out with your kitchen faucet? I bet you would like that. You need to check yourself—and your dog, too.
