You would think, having worked in technical support/customer service for several years once upon a lifetime that I wouldn’t be surprised by idiocy anymore. And yet, sometimes I still find myself stunned by people who are giant asshats.

George and the girls are “camping” in the living room again tonight so I said I would take Pearl out for her last pee of the night before putting her in her crate so that George wouldn’t have to do it. When I take her out in those cases, I usually go out the front door, let her pee down by the sidewalk, and then walk around to the other door.

When I got to that door, I saw a woman standing inside in the stairwell with a little Bichon Frise on a leash. I had seen a car in the parking lot, with the engine running to warm it up, so I figured she was waiting while her husband got the car ready. She spotted me coming and pushed the door open for me. Then she noticed Pearl trotting along at my heels.

The woman looked at her own dog, then started to pull the door closed while shaking her head. Stunned, I reached out and grabbed the handle to keep it open. She said, “No, no, you have to go around!” I held my keys up to her and said, “no, I live here, I can come in either door.”

Then she actually got ANGRY with me, still trying to close the door on me – a visitor to the building trying to close the door on a tenant! – and insisted, “No! Go around! You can’t come in this way!” She glared at Pearl to make her point.

By then I was fed up because it’s cold outside and I wanted to get into my warm apartment and put my dog to bed so I could go relax with a hot cup of green tea before bed. Pissed off, I yanked the door wide open and said, “My dog and I both live here! This is my fucking home, and if I want to come in through this door I bloody well can, now move out of my way!”

She hissed a nervous, “no, no, no!” at Pearl as we walked in, as though she was worried her dog might suffer the horror of being sniffed by a Beagle. She needn’t have worried; Pearl was mildly curious but also very tired and had no real interest in getting to know this new animal.

I just tossed a look of disgust over my shoulder as I headed up the stairs, and called it a night.

Maybe she’s had some sort of bad experience with a dog jumping hers, but:

a. I have a medium sized Beagle. I wasn’t walking a giant Rottweiler – even though Rottweilers are one of my favorite dogs, and can be quite gentle, at least I could understand being nervous of a large dog with a head bigger than your own entire dog.

b. If she has a dog she should understand dog language. Pearl’s ears weren’t flat, she wasn’t growling, and she wasn’t crouching. There was nothing to hint at aggression. She was, however, wagging her tail so hard her butt was shaking, and her tongue was hanging out of her mouth in happiness.

c. MY HOME! If she had been a tenant and didn’t recognize me, I could understand a little, but she was a visitor in MY apartment building. There was no way I was going to tolerate being shut out of my own damn apartment building.

I love people. This is why I want a cabin deep in the woods somewhere. Fewer morons that way.