When we were kids we had this dog named Muffin. At one point I am sure that Muffin was a stunning lhasa apso - you know those little dogs that have perfect long hair and look completely put out when you make them do something outrageous...like walk. Muffin may have looked the part but she was no princess.
Mom had Dad had gone out to "breeder" (I use this term overy loosely) in rural South Carolina (read trailer park) and after about 20 minutes of nose to tail inspection, they had chosen a little black boisterous dog who was just about the most perfect puppy you could imagine. He had a shiny black coat, bright eyes and a white fur "sock" on each paw. Just before Mom and Dad payed an extortionate amount of money for him, Dad heard a rustling noise and noticed a box kicked under a table in the corner which was moving ever so slightly. He made his way over to the beat up cardboard and discovered another puppy which was much smaller than the other dogs. "Hey there little guy." He said - peering in at the miniature sized puppy. The "breeder" said "that's a bitch (a female dog - not an evil backstabbing two faced evil dog)... she's the runt and she ain't really for sale." Dad corrected his cooing and said "hey there little one"as he leaned in and easily picked up the tiny pup with just a few fingers. As he gently stroked the top of her head with his index finger he asked "if she isn't for sale, what are you going to do with her?" The "breeder"sucked her teeth for a second, looked around with her hands tucked into her stone washed jeans and said with a shrug "flush her I suppose."
At this point all of Mamma's material instincts kicked in and she put her body between the puppy and the Flusher - with tensed arms, clenched fist and through gritted teeth said "No. You. Will. NOT!" - threw a twenty at her, grabbed Dad's free arm, swung him around and out the door. "Drive Will, Drive!" she shouted and off they drove into the sunset with our new puppy.
Muffin was a very well intentioned dog. It was obvious that she tried to be good, but sometimes she just couldn't help herself and her trailer-trash roots showed through. She was never an aggressive dog - that is - until she met Megan. Megan was one of those girls who was an evil backstabbing two faced evil dog. We hung out with the same group of people but I tried to avoid her as much as possible and she tried to make my life a living hell in about equal measure. She was definitely a household name but none of the family had ever met her - they just knew her from "the Megan stories" and no one liked her. One summer day we found out that Muffin shared the family sentiment. My brother Freddie went to open the door and in his usual manner called back "GROMMIT!! SOMEONE'S HERE TO SEE YOU!" He was holding the screen door open for our guest when Muffin came bounding around the corner and literally hurled herself onto Megan and allegedly bit her on the knee. Megan instinctively kicked Muffin and she let out a pathetic, pain-filled yelp. The whole family - all five kids, mom and dad showed up at the door - Freddie had already picked up Muffin and was giving her a full once-over to ensure there were no hidden injuries. All of our attention was focused on Muffin while Megan stood in the doorway completely ignored and bleeding.
"THAT MUTT BIT ME!" Megan yelled - pointing accusingly.
"I beg your pardon?!" Mom exclaimed - glaring at Megan "Muffin has never bitten anyone in her LIFE."
"But look at my knee - it's bleeding from where she got me" Megan was starting to tear up. Fortunately for Muffin, she had had a bicycle accident a few days earlier so her knees, palms and a bit of her chin were already scraped up and I am still convinced that Megan's injuries were no more than Muffin accidentally opening a scab with her protruding bottom teeth because if she had really been going for Megan I am pretty sure she would be missing a knee cap.
From that day on Megan made a point of avoiding our house and our ferocious dog. However, Muffin, not quite satisfied that justice had been adequately served, sniffed Megan out and would leave steaming hot little packages in her yard as a reminder not to come back if she knew what was good for her.