Yesterday evening, Coco was sloshed on Jäger, when she realized she was running low. She hopped down our front steps toward the street to find a neighborhood kid, 6-year-old Timmy O'Houlihan, playing with his remote controlled Jeep.
I was sitting on the front porch reading a book, so unfortunately I didn't see Coco venture down the sidewalk, but Timmy's mother gave me an earful after the incident.
Apparently, Coco approached Timmy and said, "Hey Timmy...nice wheels."
Timmy said, "Thanks bunny. My mom got it for my birthday. I'm 6."
Coco replied, "Ah yes, very nice Timmy....very nice...happy birthday. Say Timmy, you wouldn't mind if I borrowed it, would you?"
Timmy scrunched his face, "No bunny. You smell bad."
He had a point, as Coco reeked of black licorice.
Coco looked to see if Mrs. O'Houlihan was in sight, then jump-kicked Timmy straight to the chest and grabbed the remote. Timmy dropped like a bag of wet towels, and Coco hopped in the Jeep.
Once I heard Timmy crying, I jumped up to see Coco awkwardly cruising down the sidewalk in the Jeep, intermittently gaining about four feet of distance before crashing into the retaining wall.
I ran down the stairs, scooped Coco out of the Jeep and took her over to the O'Houlihan residence so that she could apologize to young Timmy. Instead of apologizing Coco simply said, "Timmy, the liquor store closes in 15 minutes. You're dead to me."