This evening, I was walking Bacardi and we happened upon a group of kids playing. We've encountered (different) children before, and usually it isn't a problem -- the kids will typically smile and/or wave and go about their business, and sometimes (though rarely) one will come over and want to pet Bacardi. These particular kids, however, were horrible. Horrible.
First, one kid approached and thrust his hand out as if to pet Bacardi, but the action -- being the opposite of "friendly" -- scared the poor fellow so that he ran around to hide behind me. Since Bacardi clearly wasn't going to allow this kid to pet him, we started walking on, at which point the kid kept running at Bacardi while swinging a tennis racket. He wasn't actually going to hit Bacardi -- I hope -- but it was clear that he wanted to upset Bacardi, who responded again by running around to hide behind me. After this began, another kid on a bike took to repeatedly riding up behind us and then swerving so as to cut off Bacardi's path. He wasn't close enough to actually hit Bacardi, but again the intent seemed to be to make Bacardi think he was in danger.
After the kid on the bike made three passes at us, I picked Bacardi up and began walking with him under my arm so as to calm him down -- at which point those two along with another kid descended upon us and began petting poor Bacardi in a decidedly unsoothing manner. And since these kids' parents -- or some adults clearly responsible for them -- were watching the entire thing, I couldn't exactly scream at them to get the fuck away. On the contrary, they were actually bringing another kid over to "meet" Bacardi.
So the kids quickly got bored with harassing Bacardi and I resumed walking -- I did not stop for the parents with the other kid, because I figured Bacardi had had enough of this torture. As if to echo my sentiment, Bacardi yelped. But the dog is not a mind reader, so why was he really yelping? Well, one kid had snuck up behind us and grabbed his fucking foot. And then, moments later, the kid did it again.
So now I'm trying to make sure I don't trip over something -- I'm still holding Bacardi, after all -- while keeping my eyes focused behind us so that I can make sure this asshole kid doesn't approach to pester poor Bacardi anymore. The kid didn't get close enough to do that again, but nevertheless followed us for about the length of two blocks. I think the only reason he didn't follow us all the way home, just waiting for me to drop my guard so he could pull Bacardi's foot again, was that doing so would have taken him out of sight of his piss-poor guardians for the evening.
Bacardi received a thorough, loving petting when we returned home -- as well as some beef-flavored treats for his trouble.