As part of my job, I get to see a lot of dogs. Some are big, some are small. Some are clean, some are mangy. Some are nice and sociable, some are sadistic and evil. Some are gay, and some have no regard for the species barrier.
I've been trying to think of a good metaphor to describe going to a house with a dog in the yard. I guess it's a lot like going through a minefield on a pogo stick. Or playing russian roulette. Or eating whatever I can scrounge up in my fridge. Or juggling with a bunch of running chainsaws. Well, whatever you like better, you gotta keep in mind that dogs have very sharp teeth and you rather notably do not.
I haven't been seriously attacked yet, but I could tell there were a bunch who wouldn't have minded taking a bit out of my tender young butt. My favorite so far, however, was a little pomeranian. Those little dogs are atomic powered. I visited somebody's house with a trainee who had REALLY big boobs and didn't mind showing them off. Anyway, as soon as we got there, that little dog went nuts, DEMANDING to be petted. Most dogs will run out of steam after a few minutes, but the whole fifteen minutes we were there, it was ricocheting off the walls. Somebody put plutonium in its Kibbles 'n Bits.
Nope, no serious attacks yet, but there's always tomorrow.
I'd also like to brag about how I invented a new euphamism for sex. Layin' some babyjuice pipeline! Damn, I'm good.