Goddam Crabby Old Ladies

Lizzie the Australian Sheepdog is a strange dog because she pees once every walk. She picks a spot and takes care of things, leaving the rest of her time outside for investigation. So we're having a lovely walk, and Lizzie's found a particularly ripe spot to sniff. She's sniffing and sniffing and something knocks on the window of the house we're in front of. I already know what's going down and choose to ignore it---if that old coot wants me to get out of her yard, she's at least gonna have to hike up her Depends and make it to the door. Which she does. 

You wanna get your dog outta my yard? 

Sure, I say. But why does it bother you?

You wanna get your dog outta my yard? she says again. I know that old, bitchy women don't like questions, they just want you to get the hell out of their wrinkly little lives so they can get back to that handsome devil, Matlock. 

I ask again: Why does it bother you?

Because it bothers me, she hollers, already retreating like a mealy apple through the two doors it took her fifteen seconds to open.

Try it some time---ask a grumpy old broad a question. She'll forget where she is and instinctively shoo you and anyone near her out of her grump radius. She might recover, might snap out of it. But then, because of the thought of intruders, she'll have to excuse herself because she's shit her too-short polyester pants. That are lavender. And weird-smelling.