Shit.

I almost killed another dog.

It was bound to happen. I always go after dogs that are so not my size, no matter big or small.

So there were these two doggies outside of the Tasti-D-Lite. One was an anorexic Daschund, the other was a chocolate laborador. I started playing with the smaller one, Gigi, because she started smelling my ass. And so I sniffed hers. And then we scrapped.

And then, she got off of her leash.

GIGI!!! GIGI!!!! GIGI!!!!! The owner screamed. Gigi took off down Broadway, weaving in between couples and tourists, and then down towards 96th Street. She was fast and relentless. Then she tore off into Broadway, and a patron jumped out into the street in front of her. and then she tore down 95th street, in between a Lexus, a cop car, and three taxis.

I thought she was a goner. And all because she got too aggressive with me.

Bee thought she was going to see vehicular homicide when we walked down 95th street towards West End. I thought I was evicted for sure (but it wasn't my fault).

We looked for the pancake flattened remnants of the anorexic Dauschund. But when we stepped around the corner, ten minutes later, Gigi was in the arms of her owner, snuggling as calm as calm could be.

We both had heart attacks, apologized profusely, and went home.