It is Friday and I've returned home from Wexford. I'm in the kitchen emptying the dishwasher when I hear Molly, my small West Highland Terrier, yelping in the hall. I turn around and the first thing I see is a huge mother fucking brown and black Alsatian dog standing there. In my hall. There, in my house.
His ears are pointy and his teeth are all white and sharp and I'm amazed at how perfectly they wrap themselves around Mollys neck making her yelp and scurry away. He eyeballs me as I shut the kitchen door and watch him through the glass.
Where the fuck did he come from? It was then I remember the little Jack Russell who scurried in earlier that morning when the kids left the front door open and put two and two together.
My Molly's hot.