A couple of summers ago, my family and I moved to Western NC. We lived in a little boon-dock community called Edneyville, which consisted of farms, houses and apartments, a convenient store and a Mexican grocery. THAT WAS IT. Being that there was very little to do there, life traveled a lot slower than it does in civilization. Some of the people themselves were a lot slower, too.
Case in point: one of our neighbors in our apartment "complex" was a good-ol' Southern redneck named Chad. He, his wife, daughter and a little Bichon named Chloe, lived across the hall from us. Chloe was free to roam the land. So was "Buster," a Chihuahua whose owner didn't give a darn 'bout nuthin.'
One day, Chloe and Buster got together and proved that neither they, nor their owners, had heeded Bob Barker's advise that he leaves at the end of every "Price Is Right." Yep, that's right, they were... Propagating. Well, Chad looks down from his balcony (we lived on the second floor) and sees "Action Jackson" violating his pooch. His response?
(Whiny, apathetic tone) "Chlooooo-eeee... Chloooo-ee. C'mere, Chloe."
Chloe was NOT interested in her master at this point, so Chad went down the stairs with a full pan of water. He got to within 3 feet of the immoral beasts and flung the water at them. Both Chloe and Buster, teeth bared, took a lunge at Chad, keeping in position all the while. Chad jumped back, then, with his hands in his pockets, watched the party continue, and then said in a resigned fashion, "Ohhhhh.... Thayut's not a good thang..."
Free to good home: Miniature mutts. Must be spayed or neutered. Whatever that means.
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