Poetic Justice

While I was in San Francisco on my way to the BlogHer conference, Left Coast told me a great story. She met a woman on the bus back from a Red Sox game the prior night who was also a New Englander, and they bonded a bit. The woman said that her friend had a dog-sitting gig for a little doggie in a fancy townhouse in Boston. Unfortunately, while the dog was in her care, he passed away. She hysterically called his owners, who were mostly unfazed due to his advanced age. They gave her the contact info for their vet and asked her to bring the dog’s corpse there. The vet would handle it, and when they returned from their trip they would take care of the rest.

The woman wrapped the dog in a blanket and put him in a big bag. She headed to the T. As she struggled through the turnstile, a burly man approached her and offered assistance. He hoisted the bag up, commented how heavy it was, and asked her what on earth she had in it. She understandably did not want to tell him it was a dead dog, so she lied and said the contents were her computer and some clothes. Wrong answer. The man punched her in the stomach and while she hunched over in pain, he took off running with the bag.

Thinking about the look on his face as he opened the bag makes me laugh and laugh.