I'm not above fighting with old men

I have what's called a "short temper." Some days, it's shorter than others. I know this. You know this. It's just a fact.

Today, my short temper reared it's ugly head and I got into a fight with a 70-year-old man.

Don't judge me.

You see, I was walking my DEADLY MURDEROUS PIT BULL KILLING MACHINE through the neighborhood after work. As we passed one of the small parks, a child almost walked into him. Rocco halfway glanced at the kid and we kept walking... Until the kid's grandpa grabbed him and said, "That dog almost got you!"

Uh, slow reaction time aside, Gramps, I assure you, your kid was in no danger. So, because he's old and I'm trying to control my temper, I let it go.

But he didn't.

He said to the child, "That's a pit bull. That's a dangerous dog."

OH, NO YOU DIDN'T.

I whipped around and walked back to him.

"Excuse me, what did you say?" I asked in that tone.

"That's a pit bull," he said.

"Yeah, and?" I challenged.

"That's a dangerous dog, not a pet."

Well, folks, I kinda lost it on this old man. I mouthed off about how this is most certainly NOT a dangerous dog and threw in a few are-you-KIDDING-me's and dramatic eye rolls every time he tried to correct me. However, you'll be pleased to know that I did not say bad words because the kids were there. That said, it was still not a pretty scene.

He even told be how back in Mexico, he saw a pit bull attack a German Shepherd.

"That's great," I said snidely, "but you know chihuahuas and tiny dogs attack like that too. All dogs can, not just pit bulls! It's ridiculous to think otherwise, come ON."

Our exchange went on until I walked off calling him an asshole under my breath.

Meanwhile, my dog? Sat down and waited until Mommy was done arguing with an old dude.

For the rest of the walk, I was ranting and raving about the ignorance of some people and how absolutely disgusting it is that adults actually TEACH their children to fear a dog because of its breed. I was in the middle of my not-so-quiet rage when I heard a tiny voice.

"Hey, can we pet your dog?"

I turned and saw three young children behind their fence, smiling eagerly.

My heart softened and I walked The Killing Machine over to the kids. He sat down while they pet him, asked his name, giggled and single-handedly erased my anger. They were so sweet to him, blissfully unaware of the stereotypes and prejudice that we face nearly every day we walk. They made me smile, too. I almost didn't want to leave.

As Roc and I turned around to finish our walk, I was happily gearing up for Round 2 with the old man, but, alas, he had departed. (No doubt whisking his grandkids away before they had a chance to be murdered by my dog on our return route.)

Oh well, I shrugged. Can't win 'em all.

So, when enraged, go find some cute neighborhood kids to hang out with, grab a much-needed beer, cuddle with your pup and thank God you are so lucky to have such a well-behaved, gentle creature in your life.