Maturity at the Dog Park

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My dog, Louie, was on his third bowel movement at the park. I suspected a woman was watching us, so I got behind Louie and blocked her view, giving Louie some privacy.
There was just a small fart noise and no dookie– a kind of misfire much like when I go.

“Aren’t you going to pick it up?”
This lady was yelling at me from one hundred feet away.

I kept walking towards my car, and she yelled again,
“Pick it up, you jerk! You ruin the park for the rest of us.”

When I was younger and I would get angry, I lost good jobs, insulted the wrong people, and got in all sorts of trouble. I looked at that lady and yelled, “Fuck you, you old hag, mind your own business.”

Somehow, I briefly felt younger. She said she was calling the police, and I yelled,
“I don’t care if you call Obama.”

I got in my car and was backing up, and she was walking towards the car writing down my tag number. It flashed through my mind to back the car up over her, maybe put the back tire over her head.
But, that sort of behavior is way behind me.
I am a wiser old man, so I drove forward and headed home.

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