Somebody had left a small dog tied to a parking meter, yelping miserably while they ate in a neighborhood restaurant. The dog had wound himself around the post once and come to the end of the line. His leash was only about a foot long.
At a window table, two women were stuffing face, doubtless comparing their cosmetic surgeries, completely indifferent to the suffering they were inflicting on their best friend.
What a rotten thing to do.
Dogs are not accessories. They deserve better than to be tied up for hours in the hot sun without water, or a pat on the head.
They could use a little love and loyalty in return.
I often see dogs tied to meters all evening while their owners drink themselves under the table.
Last week, we walked to dinner about a mile away. A Golden Retriever was lying on the sidewalk outside a crowded, noisy bar in heavy rain, too miserable to complain.
When we passed by on our way home about two hours later, he was still there. We stopped to pet him, and his eyes pleaded with us to take him home.
I wanted to storm into the bar and confront the dog's owner, but Flip assured me that it would get ugly.
"Nobody will hit me," I said. "I'm a girl, and I'm small."
He agreed that I was counting on that, exactly. "But I will have to defend you."
I accused him of being a wuss, but agreed not to bitch-slap the dog's owner in his presence. I can fight my own battles. I don't need a goon to protect me.
And besides, I know that karma will bite these jackasses in the butt. Just not soon enough.
In their next lives, they will come back as dogs with cruel owners. Or better yet, they will come back as amoebae and have to work their way up to being dogs.
If they are not human now, they will never be humans again.
