Last night fellow journalist Pamela Young and I popped into the Ruby Tuesday beside our hotel for a bite to eat and a glass of wine. We chose a quiet booth adjacent to the bar so we could catch up on WEG news and gossip and solve life’s problems. There was a gentleman (I use that term loosely) at the bar who was becoming increasingly vocal relative to the amount of beers he downed. I believe he may have been former military or a first responder judging by the topic of his ramblings and the fact he had an emotional support dog which I would venture to guess was a Dutchie ‒ a gorgeous animal.

Suddenly Mr. Overserved started chirping at a man at the other end of the bar who I also think had been in the service and it escalated into a shouting match and threats of bodily harm. It appears they were arguing over who had saved more people on 9/11… so basically who was the biggest hero. The most upsetting thing was the reaction of the poor dog who just looked miserable because his owner was being an a**hole, likely not for the first time. I think that emotional support dog could use an emotional support dog.

Police were called and we skedaddled. But I really wanted to take the dog with me.

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