An old lady would go to the park each day to let her dog run. Her dog was a poodle named Fifi. Fifi loved to run and bound. Her bounding was especially energetic. She seemed to test how high she could leap. If you saw her bounding, you’d say, “She looks like she’s flying.”

Fifi always had a beautiful collar on her, Sometimes, it was coloured leather, other times braided silk, or see through plastic. But one of her collars had diamond studs. That was the collar the Thief noticed. “What kind of dog has diamonds?” he asked himself. “A rich dog!” was the answer.

Thief watched Fifi until she went to her mistress. From Fifi’s POV, as she ran to the old lady, Fifi saw the one she loved most in the world. But Thief saw an old woman with a big bag, probably with money and food in it. Even if it was Fifi’s food, it was probably better than what he ate the night before.

Then Thief did what he did best. He snuck up on the old lady. He never looked at her directly, just seemed to drift one way, then another, but always closer to her big bag of food and money. All the time, he watched Fifi, waiting for her to run off.

Luck was with him. A kite appeared and started to weave its way into the sky. Thief turned to watch it, and while he did, he moonwalked closer to the bag. (Thief was very proud of his moonwalking. He thought it made him look cool.) Fifi saw the kite and bounded off, barking. When the old lady watched her, Thief turned and ran to grab the bag.

For an old lady, she could move quickly. By the time the Thief got to the bag, she had her hands on it. He grabbed it any way. He pulled but she wouldn’t let go. She fell off the bench, but still hung on. “Help! Murder!” she shouted. That’s when Fifi hit.

There was a sudden sharp pain in Thief’s wrist as Fifi clamped on. He howled, let go of the bag and swung his arm to make her let go. But Fifi had already let go, and was now chewing on Thief’s ankle. Thief tried to kick Fifi off, but Fifi was gone and now Thief was falling over.

Thief’s head bounced on the sidewalk, which gave him an instant headache. Then he heard the old lady say “Fifi, Restrain!” Fifi bounded over Thief, onto his chest and suddenly had his throat between her very sharp little teeth.

The old lady loomed over him, “I’d be very careful, shithead! Fifi is a Trained Attack Dog. She’ll rip your throat out if I tell her to.” Fifi growled. “I’d stay still if I were you.” Then the old lady pulled out her phone and called 911. Other people were there, taking pictures with their phones. The photos and videos went viral before the police arrived.

The old lady refused to press charges. But she insisted the police hold Thief while she made a video of her holding Fifi up to Thief. She acted like she was a ventriloquist speaking for Fifi, “You got to ask yourself one question — do I feel lucky? Well, do you punk?” That went viral too.

Thief’s social life was effectively ruined. His criminal friends wouldn’t have anything to do with him. “You couldn’t even rob an old lady and a poodle!” they shouted at him, laughing. When Thief said “But it was an Attack Poodle!” they only laughed harder. Then they beat him up and told him to never bother them again. “Your moonwalking is dumb,” was the last thing they ever said to him.

Thief broke down and begged forgiveness for all the bad things he committed in his life. He took the only money he had in the world, invested in a full facial tattoo and shipped out on a boat to Fiji. No one ever heard from him again. The moral of the story is even little dogs bite.