Skinny minnie dog on the street

Arrgh. Justin and I took the dogs out, against my better judgment since I had work to do. We saw a skinny golden retriever on a busy street. Justin wanted to save it, so I brought the dogs into the park while Justin lured it with hot dogs and got the phone number. But he didn't have a phone, and I did, so an extremely frustrating encounter ensued. My dogs were barking like crazy, especially Dottie, because their other owner was across the street feeding hot dogs to a strange dog. I essentially reinforced this by drizzling cheese all on the ground so they would shut up long enough for me to hear the phone number that Justin was shouting across the street. I finally got it, after losing my temper more than once and yelling and stomping my feet like a four-year-old rumplestiltskin, and the guy who answered the phone actually told me his dog was in his backyard. No joke. I said, "well, no, he's out here on the street." The guy said to hang on, he was going to check the backyard to see if the dog was there, no kidding. Well, lo and behold, the dog was not in his yard, because, as we already knew, he was on the street being fed hot dogs by Justin. Turns out the guy was like three houses away, came out and got the dog, and we went home with me in a foul mood and the dogs with barely a walk.

Times over threshold: 1 loooong one for Dottie, a short one for Gustav.

Unpleasant.