Dog Walk Inquiries Part Two

Another Day, another walk about the neighborhood with the bulldog leading the way.

We happen upon a yard sale--HUGE YARD SALE proclaims the signs stapled to telephone poles around the block--with many folk milling about, sifting through the useless junk and piles of questionable articles of clothing, seeking the 'Grail' in this family's discarded-yet-seemingly-worth-something-to-Somebody items.*

Roger immediately notes the presence of others, clamps down on his lead and starts gnawing away at it.** This occurs just in time for the little 'uns at the Yard Sale to notice us and scamper over in the hope that they will have the great joy to pet the slobbering mawed beast at the end of my tether.

Oddly enough, these kids skip the ASKING part and go right in for the pet pet. Fortunately for them he was busy with his chewing or their aggressive behavior could have ended with a display of Roger's unparallelled Rutting Abilities. The partriarch of the little 'uns (and apparently the King of the Yard Sale***) sidled over in his untucked dingy oxford and Erik Estrada-circa-CHiPs shades to take in the spectacle in his own patented 'regal' manner (arms akimbo, legs slightly apart in a pre-urinal-stop fashion). After a moment of observing the kids having fun with the oblivious dog he looks to me and asks:

'You don't feed him people-food, do yuh?'

Erk.

(inner dialogue time again)
Who the fuck are you, Shirt-Guy? Mister King-of-the-Yard-Sale has a side-gig in Pet food sales? What the Flip? People-Food? Soylent Green? Should I mention that Chuck Heston is a Jackass? Is this a joke? Roger gets scraps all the time...is he calling MY DOG fat? Fuck him and his ugly fucking kids. They probably got Cheeze Puff debris on his back from petting him, dammit. My dog is the exact weight that he is supposed to be according to the Vet. I should let Roger hump the ground-in dirt off those Kris Kristofferson-style jeans he's stuffed into...if only Rog knew voice commands...shit.
(inner dialogue ends)

I responded, 'Why? Are you serving weiners at this Yard Sale as sales incentives?'

And left.

I sure hope the Sale was a sign that this Family is moving soon. I don't think the sausage-comment went over very well and I certainly hope not to find keilbasas and/or other linked meat products filling my mailbox in retaliation any time soon.

When will I learn?

T
(That's Our Tony!!!)

*The most Grail-like thing I witnessed there on my brief stop was a tarnished and chipped trophy with the inscription '3rd Place, North Dale Rec-Center's Great Glut-Off, 5 Packages of Cap'n Swag's Fish-Sticks.

**Really just one of his 'Show-Off' actions and not a sign that he is desperately trying to flee the Loonies we encounter on our daily constitutionals...seriously.

***An unofficial title on-par with the Earl of Lawn-Edgers, the Pontiff of Playgrounds, Sir Meat Raffle and The-Thing-That-Should-Not-Be, et cetera, bequeathed upon individuals of the Highest Stock in these specific...er...disciplines.