Gotta love it

It's a beautiful day:
Thunder and lightning, mostly in the distance, rain falling in surges, hard, then soft, then hard again. Thank goodness for the covered patio, so there's a comfortable place to curl up and watch it all while Alpha and Beta work their way through a pot of coffee.

We all went down to Lenny's bar-and-grill-and-swapmeet last night after supper. Someone had tied his Rottweiler to the lamp post outside for some reason. Maybe because of the "No Dogs at the Bar" sign, but that just means we can't actually sit at the bar - we have to keep our feet on the floor. Maybe to guard his motorcycle. Guess I should have asked the dog, but he looked grumpy, even after I gave him a sympathetic shrug on my way by.

It developed typically: Ankle-Biter and I curled up on the floor inside the door, Alpha and Beta sat at a nearby table, Lenny brought us each a beer, we watched the talking box on the wall, and we talked with some of the others who were there.

About twenty minutes later, a man in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt came in and asked, "Does anyone here own that Rottweiler outside?"

"Yeah, I do!" the tatooed guy at the bar said, standing up. "What about it?"

"Well, I think my chihuahua just killed him..."

"What are you talkin' about?!" the tatooed guy says, disbelievingly. "How could your little runt kill my Rottweiler?"

"Well, it seems he got stuck in your dog's throat..."