I got home from work and saw that Mrs. Wigglebottom had crusty red crap on her head and around her eye. Of course, my immediate thought was that she’d suffered some dreadful wound at the claws of the cats and had been wandering around the house bleeding all day.
I hugged her to me and started to ask “Oh, Mrs. Wigglebottom! What happened to you?” when I smelled a slight tomato-y, vinegar-y smell.
Someone–I won’t point fingers–did throw the pickles from her quarter-pounder with cheese at the dog yesterday and one did land on her head and one did cling to her eye. And yes, that same person did today think that the dog had been hurt. And so, yes, that very same person may be a bit of a moron.
Sorry, Mrs. Wigglebottom.