Earlier today I was trying to have a nice conversation on the phone when Rooty started going all apeshit. I opened the front door, intending to let him out so he could go bark at a cat or squirrel, and staring at me through the screen door was this random black lab. Of course Rooty was freaking the hell out trying to attack this dog through the door so I had to close it and try to calm him down. Eventually he did, so when he acted like he wanted to go out again I looked around and, not seeing the other dog, let him out on his rope. I went outside with him, just in case, and thank God I did. Black dog comes out of nowhere, looking all dopey and wagging his tail like “Gee, I want to make a new friend” but Rooty was like “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING DOING IN MY YARD?!”  The next thing I know, I’m hanging up on my friend and throwing myself in between the two dogs because Rooty thinks he’s going to be Billy Badass and kick the ever-loving shit out of the other for having the nerve to pee on things he’s clearly already marked as his.

Rooty is territorial as hell.

So in my pajamas, fuzzy socks and flip flops I was trying to get a hold of my dog and keep a much larger dog away, cursing violently and loudly the whole time while Rooty’s rope kept getting wound around my ankles.

Because, you know, I woke up this morning thinking I’d like to have a Jerry Springer (pet special!) -worthy white trash episode in my mom and dad’s front yard.

Anyway, I managed to wrangle Rooty away from Black Dog and successfully get him into the house but (of course) he had somehow managed to get poop smeared down his side. I made the mistake of saying the word bath so I spent the next 15-20 minutes trying to get him into the bathroom before he got poop all over the house or on me.  See, Rooty hates baths and as soon as he think he might get one he sneaks away to hide. I had to trick him by opening the front door and acting like he was going to go outside. Once he was within reach I scooped him up and hauled him into the bathroom.

I outsmarted a Jack Russel Terrier and I’m proud of it.

Once I had Rooty bathed I was ready to sit down and relax. I looked outside just in time to see that damn black dog tearing apart a trash bag at the end of the driveway. Fantastic.

If the episode with the dog fight wasn’t enough to make my mom and dad’s neighbors think I’m crazy, me walking down the front yard in my pajamas (but this time with sneakers on) carrying a trash bag and cursing under my breath probably did the job. And if it weren’t bad enough that I had to go pick trash out of the ditch, I stepped in a giant steaming pile of fresh poop the black dog was kind enough to leave for me.


That dog is still hanging around here, leaving occasionally to terrorize other yards but always coming back. I haven’t been able to let Rooty out in quite some time…so I finally had to do something about the situation.

I called animal control…The guy on the phone was super nice and after taking down the address and a description of the dog he assured me they’d try to get out here tonight but they close at 5:00.

Well it’s now 5:10 and they haven’t been out here yet. Mr. Rooty’s going to need to go outside eventually and that dog seems hell bent on making friends, so it looks like I might get to throw myself into the middle of another dog fight before this day is over.