One of my neighbours, having never before shown any signs of being batty, has bought a small dog. The Hammer and I spotted the mangy little shit before it could cause any trouble the first time my neighbour pranced it around the neighbourhood. Big dogs rarely cause trouble on the street. Little dogs can be relied on to stir shit up for no reason at all.
Sure enough as soon as it got close the little shit leaped at my dog like hippies on a seal hunt, fangs snapping and its fur sticking out like the finest punk rock hair-do you ever saw.
The Hammer, thinking the froth-mouthed canine midget in front of her meant to do her harm, reached for it with her big mouth as I strained on her leash. One false move by the little dog would have meant certain drowning in the Hammer's drool pool.
"Nice dog you got there Marvin," I lied.
"Don't give me that bullshit Beer," fumed Marvin. "My wife fell in love with him at the pound. Next time you see us maybe you could let go of the Hammer's leash?"