People.

People. Funny old things. It's amazing how some can be so infuriatingly ignorant to the effect of the words that seem to endlessly flow out of their mouths – often in testing and unnecessary times.

Today I had a near disaster, nothing too bad compared to some of the tragedies that are occurring around the world, but nevertheless, it wasn't what I had in mind for a relaxing Sunday afternoon at home. Let's paint a picture... My mum lives in a little village; very idyllic, very quiet, the house backs onto my grandad's field's, bursting to the brim with relaxed sheep and cute, little lambs – the stereotypical image of the countryside. Now..my dog on the other hand, is not relaxed and today..was not cute. To cut a long story short, my dog somehow managed to escape from our garden, which is never particularly helpful when I was locked out of the house without a lead so after (trying) to run up the street to desperately borrow a lead from my uncle, frantically squeezing this f**k annoying squeaky toy which was as much use as a plank of wood and shouting it's name in a *I promise I'm not mad, ok maybe I am, ok please just get THE FUCK BACK HERE* tone, I saw what I desperately hoped was not what it looked like.

Sheep. Sheep running. Sheep running away from what most definitely looked like my dog. My stupid, stupid dog.

Shit.

After shouting my uncle for help, we both walked very very quickly over to the field where to my absolute horror, there was a little mound of white, which my dog who is not in the least bit violent, was circling. I literally wanted to die. Tears started welling in my eyes as I b-e-g-g-e-d that it was not what it looked like(don't worry, it wasn't – no lambs were harmed in the making of this nightmare of a Sunday). As this was happening, a 60ish yr old woman was scurrying over the field, to which I still do not have the slightest clue who she actually was.

She is who this post is about. She is who did not help this situation in the slightest.

'Who's is that dog?' 'Oh my god it hasn't KILLED a lamb has it?' 'Oh it had better not have done..who the hell is the owner of that dog?'

'It's mine,' I replied.

'Oh...it should be on a lead shouldn't it'

'Yes,' I said, through gritted teeth. Do you think I enjoy letting my dog run off and scare sheep? Is that how you think I get my kicks? Is how I so desperately wanted to reply.

'Now you know you need to keep it away from all animals after this – as soon as it gets a scent it will be off and causing chaos and trouble again. Trouble, trouble, trouble.'

Pardon. I'm sorry – no really.. what?

Is that a conversation you have with someone who is clearly upset at what has (almost) happened? I don't understand some people, I truly don't. I have no idea where she even appeared from but it was as if it was her aim of the day to make me feel like my dog should be put down on the spot. As if I wanted it to escape from the teeniest of gaps in the garden and cause mischief.

No, of course I didn't but sometimes these things happen, that's life. Things happen to everyone and maybe, just maybe, before people open their mouths, they could think, 'actually, is what I'm saying helpful? Will it add something significantly helpful to this conversation?'

Why is it that we seem to enjoy telling people what they should have done, or what they should be doing? We seem to enjoy other people's struggles or problems.

People.

(And once again, no lambs were harmed in the making of this story, and my dog is sheepishly(pun intended, I'm sorry), sat in the corner, squeaking slowly yet frequently, on that god damn sqeaky toy.