It was bound to happen.

I've had the honor of meeting a thousand people in the last eight
months. Of that number, 90% have given me a positive reaction.
10% have actively ignored my existence. No one has been overtly
critical.

Until this dude in the plaid shorts broke my streak.

I was strolling the pier, watching the crowd gathered for the US Open of
Surfing, when my furtografur yelled "watch your six, Dog!"
I whirled around to see this gentleman charging towards me.
I gave him the happy paws but it did no good.

"You fool!" He screamed. "What are you selling?"
I cocked my head and tried to look cute.
"Not a thing," I said. "Just enjoying the afternoon."
He came a step closer and scowled.
"You're insane. You need to get off this pier now," he snarled.
I looked him in the eye, my ears towering a good foot over his head.
"Do you own this pier?" I asked.
Before he could answer I continued.
"This is a public place. I have every right to be here. What have you
got against dogs, anyway?"
He took two steps back and looked quite disturbed.
I don't think he bargained for a long conversation with
this annoying mutt.
"You're immoral," he spat, brows knitted in anger.
"Sir, I assure you that I am quite moral indeed," I answered.
"If you'd like to join me for a stroll, we can discuss it further
and you can get a better idea of why I'm here."
He stared at me. "You want me to stroll with you?" He asked in disbelief.

I was about to explain my offer in detail when three small children came
scampering over, clamoring for a hug and a high five from the tall dog.
As their parents took photos, and the kids hugged my legs and felt my
tail, I caught the man's eye again.
"This is why I'm here." I said directly to him.
He clenched his teeth and turned on his heel, making a hasty
retreat from this immoral display.

As I continued my walk around the pier, I thought about the angry
gentleman. What had I done to upset him so?
How did he associate the presence of an upright canine
with immorality? Maybe he just hates faux fur?

After another hour of random hugs and pix, I ambled off the pier
and onto the packed pub crawl of Main Street.
I saw Mr. Cranky, leaning against a post, yelling into his cell phone.
I had to know; did he have a momentary lapse of reason?
Would he love the big dog now?
I approached him and held out my paw for a conciliatory shake.
His eyes grew wide when realized my presence.
"Get away from me!" He bellowed as he backed into the wall.

So I did.

As I left him to stew in his own angst, two young ladies put their
arms around me and steered me into the Irish pub.
"We love you, Mr. Dog," one said as they escorted me to the bar.

Mr. Crazy Human doesn't know what he's missing.

So there you go.
The Dogbomb's record is broken.
I have a hater.
And really, so what?

The day was golden. The people were lovely.
The beer was cold.

You can count on more immoral Dogbomb adventures soon.