Drake, Uber and A Pervy Frenchie

Drake, Uber and A Pervy Frenchie

This morning I saw a dog taking an Uber.

It was in the passenger seat barking orders (oh, yes I did) at the harried, middle-aged, female driver. I know this because I was across from them in the opposing traffic on Coldwater Canyon for an inordinate amount of time.

He, (the dog) being a schnauzer mix, resembled a hipster millennial with a scraggly beard and man bun.
I decided to name him Drake.
And because Drake was either chewing or barking, he appeared to this anthropomorphically obsessed woman (me) to be talking.

Rather, make that yelling.

Drake was back-seat driving from the front passenger seat (is there anything worse?) blah, blah, blahing directions to the dog park on Mulholland.

I’m sure of it. I have dogs. I know what dictatorial, unforgiving, assholes they can be.

He looked self-righteous and entitled (like most dogs I know) yelling at the poor woman to get a move on! Drake was having none of the morning traffic on his commute to socialize with his kind. Having overslept, he’d skipped his coffee, making him surly and short-tempered.

If I were his driver I would have told him to either stop his yelling—or to get the fuck outta my car!

I would have told him that I know better than Waze and that no matter which lane you use, the canyon at that hour is a brutal shit-show.

Then I would have made a crack about the day old biscuit crumbs in his beard and his breath that could curdle milk.

I felt sorry for the poor woman who had her head turned toward me, away from his yapping, staring longingly out the window, just waiting for this hell to end, knowing full well that Drake would skip the tip.

As we finally passed each other I made the sign-of-the-cross and prayed a little prayer that when Drake got to the dog park a German Shepard trained by Mossad would beat the snot out of him.

That not-so-loving thought bit me in the ass only moments later when a stranger’s Frenchie craned it’s neck under the stall at Tree People and watched me pee with an expression that was just pervy enough to make me miss Drake.

So…how was your morning?

Carry on,
xox

Hi, I’m Janet

Mentor. Pirate. Dropper of F-bombs.

This is where I write about my version of life. My stories. Told in my own words.

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