Karen is Pissing Me Off!

So there is this 50-something-year-old woman in our neighborhood that walks her little dog all the time. She dresses like a country bumpkin while her dog dresses like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. She hasn’t bothered me until I too began walking a dog. A dog (Maisel) that could and would eat her petite puppy for an appetizer.

It wasn’t until recently that we put two and two together and realized she was the same woman that chewed my youngest son out in the Spring for laying down a knife in the grass after just opening a bag of fertilizer. She chastised him, saying her “poor little puppy could have stepped on it.”

Walking Maisel has been on par with walking a tornado, hurricane and cyclone….simultaneously. We don’t really have a problem till those f-ing bunnies come out or someone else is walking their dog. Someone else being Karen.

The Obnoxious Dog Walk

I’ll be real, I don’t worry about Karen reading this because there’s a good chance her greatest form of technology is an abacus. So as I was walking/wrestling Maisel, I came across Karen for about the 4th time in a week. As I pulled on Maisel’s leash and promised her things like porterhouse steak and roasted chicken if she stopped lunging, I yelled over to Karen,

“I’m sorry, she’s new. We really are working with her.”

And do you know what that bitch said?

“You’ve been saying that now for days.”

Did she really just say that? And so snotty? True, I have been walking by Karen several times but I don’t remember what I say simply because I’m trying to keep control of Maisel and save other puppies’ lives. Maisel loves humans, it’s all dogs, bunnies and birds she wants to throat punch.

I didn’t respond to Karen as I was shocked by her complete lack of empathy. What’s been her biggest struggle with her 4-pound mutt? Getting its head stuck in a straw? Waahh, do you want some cheese with that whine?

As Maisel growled and lunged, I at one point lost a little leverage and she inched closer to Karen. Karen’s next move was to turn her pudgy little body inward (screw the dog by the way, she was only concerned about her own safety) while announcing,

“No, don’t come any closer.”

Are you kidding me? As I got a better handle on Maisel and processed what she had just said, I became increasingly annoyed.

“Don’t worry,” I growled. “We are definitely not getting any closer.”

Picking up on my sarcasm, Karen suddenly softened.

“What did you say her name was? Mabel?”

Because I’m a lady and not a bitch, I decided to respond despite not wanting to.

“Maisel. It’s Maisel. The Marvelous Miss Maisel,” I barked and walked away

The Dog Trainer

Did I mention that Maisel’s trainer is fabulous? Like the female version of Ceasar Milan fabulous? Anyway, Maisel’s first training was last week. As Maisel, the trainer and myself walked calmly by Karen with Maisel’s new techniques, Karen kept her head down and didn’t even so much as acknowledge either one of us. I was so annoyed that I blurted out,

“This is what happens with a professional trainer.”

Karen kept walking, ignoring me. Everyone on the block has acknowledged Maisel’s improvements, why not Karen? I’ll tell you why, she’s a miserable hag that thinks my big puppy is evil.

So you know how I mentioned the trainer is amazing? I explained the background of Karen and how Karen has an adorable ceramic piggy in her front yard that I wouldn’t mind having.

“Which house did you say it is?” the trainer asked.

“Next street over, 3 houses down on the right.”

“Is it big?” She asked, conspiratorially.

“Nope, can easily be placed in a backpack,” I said, not insinuating anything.

I swear to God peoples, if Maisel’s trainer “picks up” the ceramic piglet, I’m totally displaying it in my yard.