I ran into the pitbull rescue girl on one of Banksy’s first trips to the busy, local dog beach. Hadn’t seen the pitbull girl in a long time. She gets rescues and turns them into rock solid, bombproof family dogs. I wouldn’t call us friends, but she lives in my neighborhood, and we had this thing in common, finding dogs that might not do well in shelters, and giving them a good life. Her dogs are big and gray, mine were small and black.

Until I got Banksy.

A little while ago, I saw her walking down by the beach. She had on her little skort. I’ve never seen her in anything other than a tiny little skort. Pitbull girl doesn’t age.

She looked us up and down. “Four dogs? When did you get that dog? ” she asked.

“Gosh, she’s almost 2, and I got her as a puppy. So a while. We just haven’t been coming to this beach til she was older.”

“Why did you need another dog?”

I snorted. Last thing I needed was another dog. “I didn’t really NEED another dog,” I replied. “I wanted another dog. I like to do agility and I really wanted to train my next partner from puppy age.”

“Oh, what. She’s some kind of Special Agility Dog?”

“Well, I hope she’ll be a special agility dog. But she’s a regular border collie.”

“Purebred?”

“Yep.”

“You got her from a breeder?” She had a tone here. She actually always has a tone, one of those people with chronic looking like the rolled out from the scowly side of the bed, even when they’re walking their dog on the beach.

“Uh huh.”

“Nice.” She said that like a hiss, the way a giant snake hisses super loud, and it’s a warning that it’s about to strike. Right between your eyes. “Purebred dog.” She said that in a snarl, pushing the air out her lips so it was almost like a spit, except as she said it she turned tail and marched away from us.

I ran our conversation through Google Translator, from Passive Aggressive to English. Here’s how it came out:

Pitbull Girl: “You have too many dogs.”

Me: “No I don’t.”

Pitbull Girl: “What’s wrong with you, creepy dog lady, to have so many? Since in the past, it’s been proven that my dogs have much better manners than yours.”

Me: “I NEEDED this dog. If I can’t do agility my soul will shrivel up like a rotting slug in the sun.”

Pitbull Girl: “So you had to go out and buy with loads of money some fancy pants dog to do your abusive dog sport thing with and probably also crate her and torture her whenever nobody’s not looking?

Me: “Fuck you.”

Pitbull Girl: “And you’re a traitor to the whole groovy dog saving world of dog rescue, too.”

Me: “No I’m not.”

Pitbull Girl: “You’re going to hell and I’m a card carrying PETA member and if I wouldn’t go to hell and jail I’d come fire bomb your house.”