Yesterday, while Steve took pity on my poor sore ankle and ran into Walmart to get my bubble mailers, I sat in the minivan with Sam with the AC running. A woman and her two kids pulled up next to us in their Ford Aerostar minivan, rolled the windows almost all the way up, and proceeded to head into Kohl's to shop.
It wasn't until the average American family disappeared into the store that the little white dog popped up into the driver's seat and started barking.
85 degrees, with a slight breeze, windows open about an inch-and-a-half.
I was so mad I was ready to break into that minivan and take that dog out of there myself. Or, alternatively, to go into Kohl's and give that woman a talking to. But no...not me. I lost all gumption and had my husband call the police. I'm not particularly proud of myself, but I will leave the self-analysis (what the hell has happened to me?) for later, I'm too tired to deal with it now.
The defender-of-truth-and-justice police officer asked, "Are the windows open?" at which point we knew nobody would speak up for this poor little dog. So we sat and kept an eye out for the little guy for 15 minutes while it panted and panted, looking up at the store, waiting for its family to return. If that idiot had taken any longer, that dog would have a new home...even if I would have had to make my husband do the fetching for me.
Oh yeah...the police never showed. And Sam learned a couple new colorful phrases. (blush)
(Next time, the story of the cocker spaniel who may be euthanized because it fought back against the two-year-old who was terrorizing it while the grandparents watched. People suck.)