That’s Not Your Language

So Chester got in an argument with a guy sitting outside of Cafe 360 the other day. Yes, a human guy.

We were calmly taking a nice morning walk on Bardstown. It was early and not too many people were out yet, except a table of 3 enjoying breakfast (or maybe it was a late dinner, since they didn’t look very rested). We stopped near them, waiting for the crosswalk light to change.

And then it started. One of the guys began to quietly “woof.” Chester dutifully ignored it, but the guy continued with increasing fervor. Chester just looked at the barker with disdain, but finally it crossed the line and my dog let him have it.

Chester told him off, but he didn’t get angry. He didn’t pull the leash or lose control. He just stood by my side and calmly barked his loudest woof, putting that eating guy in his place.

And I would have fussed at him, but when a human starts barking at your dog, you kind of feel entitled to let your dog bark back… you know what I mean?

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