Saturday afternoons are Fifty’s favorite time of the week. He gets to run around outside and play with his BFF, Honey Jr, and The Husband.
(I also love this time, I get some quiet, and The Husband gets a little cardio).
Fifty was happily chasing the football when Le Petite Notre Dame’s bells rang out. Church bells scare the bejeezus out of Fifty. He looks panic stricken and barks, running wildly around like he’s mentally unbalanced.
(I think they hurt his ears… they hurt mine, so they must hurt his).
Right around the time Fifty began to go nutty, a tourist comes walking along and actually said,
“He’s aggressive, no? I think he’s a bit of an a**hole.“
(Fifty may look aggressive but he is the sweetest of the sweet. He approaches people, tail wagging, and if he could speak human, I just know that he would say, “Hi. My name is Fifty, want to be my friend?”
And then in case you can’t tell by the frantic tail wagging that he loves you, he gives you a big ol’ lick. He is the opposite of aggressive. And what kind of a person walks up to complete strangers and calls their dog an a**hole?)
Back to, “He’s aggressive, no? I think he’s a bit of an a**hole.“…
The Husband calmly said,“No, I think you’re the a**hole” as he and Honey Jr walked closer.
The tourist’s facial expression quickly changed to, OOPS, and he turned and scampered off.
And all the while, Fifty stood there, tail wagging, happy that the bells had stopped and he could get back to his football game.
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