Tried and True Methods: Fighting Fire with Dog

A post or two back, I painted a portrait of forbidden love. A man separated from his jet ski by an incurable fear of open water. The ending was sweet, and love prevailed. Now my neighbors are ruining the whole thing. Apparently a man cannot enjoy the simple pleasure of a Jet Ski ride in his above ground pool whilst tethered to the garage without some jackass cutting the line sending me on a at first fun but soon awful trip into a fence. Its UnAmerican. Well this had been going on for some time, until I decided to fight back.

The Lyndon men have a long history of stormy relations with their neighbors and have won said relations almost universally with one proven method. Fight fire with fire? Yes that is a great idea, fire does a lot of things well. It consumes wholly, burns painfully, and looks magnificent in the process of doing both. I've been known to light abandoned (as far as I know) buildings on fire just to watch them burn. Sadly, my neighbors have already called dibs on fire. I know myself well enough to realize I cannot win in a fair fight, so my "fire" needs to be better. A living, breathing, eating, thinking, fire... ...a dog. The Lyndon men always choose dog.

Obtaining said dog, was a bit of a drawn out process. Whilst at the pound I interviewed quite a few candidates. Each one was brought to me and did its best to look cute, loyal, and house broken. Pathetic. I must have met at least twenty dogs that were crap. I was completely disappointed, until I saw him. Skulking in the corner, the darkness followed him and his shadow was out of sync with his own movements. This beautiful creature was a jet black German Sheppard. I inquired as to why he only had three legs:

"That... ...thing... ...was a police dog. On a routine drug bust they sent him in to get some fucking tweaker and the trailer blew. The dog lost a leg, but got the meth junkie. It lost a lot of blood, but never let go of the poor bastards throat even at the morgue. It clamped down on it, snarling throughout the entire autopsy. They had to cut the neck from the corpse because the dog just wouldn't let go. I think its still got the the throat somewhere. We've gassed him several times with no effect. I'd shoot the fucking thing if I could, its the most evil creature I have ever met." the little old lady politely explained.

I looked the dog in its eyes, and it stared right at my throat. This ranks as the second most terrifying moment of my life. I choked out the words: "I will take that dog"

The dog, was completely hostile towards me for almost two days. Finally I mustered the courage to approach him while he was making a sandwich for lunch. I had been thinking on a name for some time and decided to try it out. I suggested Snarles... ... Snarles Barkley. The dog looked to me from its sandwich, and I knew he liked the name because for the first time he did not eye my throat. He cut his sandwich in half to share with me and I began reveal his greater purpose. I told him of my neighbors and their hand rolled cigarettes. The way they wore flannel having never swung an axe in their life. There insistence on being barefoot, cuffed jeans, and overall dirtiness. "Fucking hipsters" I said and Snarles growled in concurrence.

I had my reservations about a three legged dog being able to successfully deter hipsters, but they were quickly dispelled. I began to ride my Jet Ski, and as suspected one of my neighbors made his move to cut the line. Just as his knife was about to touch the rope, I saw what I can only describe as a blur of hatred make its move. The hipster saw the blur as well, he turned to run, but the mere thought of running sent his body into a fit of caughing and wheezing. A lifetime of hand-rolled cigarrettes was the second to last nail in this hipsters coffin, Snarles was fit to be the last. In a mere 6.5 seconds, Snarles closed the 150 yard gap between himself and the future mauling victim. Pouncing on the hipster, Snarles dealt out an ass-chomping on par with any four or even five legged dog. You could say he cured the smokers cough.

In the four weeks I've had Snarles he has taken down hipsters, squirrels, possum, bunnies, cats, other dogs, coyote, a black bear, and the swat team that got sent after him. He is man's best friend.

-S.L.