On Tuesdays and Thursdays Layla rides to school with Reagan and me for drop-off.
My schedule is flexible enough on those mornings that I don't have to rush straight to my office; I have enough time to take Layla back home, finish getting ready, and then leave for work.
Layla loves to ride.
If I get my keys, she's at the door.
This morning, after we dropped off Reagan, we headed home as usual, with Layla hanging her head out the window (just barely enough for her head of course).
A guy in a white, beat up old "kidnapper van" pulls up next to my car, rolls his window down, and says, "Ya got any puppies?"
First of all, no. Hell no.
Have you lost your mind?
My dog does happen to be a purebred German Shepherd, but I had her spayed when she was 6 months old.
Second of all, I know my dog is a beautiful dog:
Have you lost your mind, Doofus??
You don't come sidling up next to a woman (or probably anyone for that matter) on the highway.
Third of all, my dog may be beautiful, but if she thought you were messing with me, she would bite your arse.
Again and again and again.
And, I would let her.
You're not a very smart fella, are ya?
And, finally, in the almost non-existent possibility that I might possibly have puppies (I'm the Board of Directors President for the local animal shelter), I'm sure as heck not going to give/sell them to someone crazy goober in a beat-up kidnapper van in the middle of the highway.
Every day I try not to be surprised.
Every day I am still surprised.