Another Fucking Dog

No lie. Fourth dog. No tags. Do I smell like rawhide?

As Husband and I were enjoying a local band (cough, cough - insert shameless plug here) on the outdoor patio of a not-even-close-to-local bar/restaurant, I was spontaneously greeted by a lovely Black Lab, who had been walking along the shoreline of the lake below the outdoor patio. We weren't on the shoreline, we were up a flight of stairs. Poor puppy was soaking wet from the rain and seemed to be hungry. Feeling pity for any creature that doesn't have the ability to run through a drive thru for their supper, I promptly stole some bread from my friends leftovers container and gave it to him. Someone pointed out he was barely hungry (he had a huge ass), but I continued to give all of my friends bread to him. I made a friend for life in that dog within moments (and lost the friend whose bread I stole). He laid down at my feet until a waiter came by and dragged him out to find out who he belonged to (no one in the place claimed him by the time we left).

I don't know where he came from and I don't know what happened to him, but for the love of fucking Pete people!!! TAGS!!! Are they so hard??? PetSmart has a machine where you can make one for, like, 4 bucks, and, barring that, take a Sharpie, write your phone number on a fucking piece of paper and paper clip it to your dog's collar!!!

Seriously.