Facing death; stolen Scarecrow

In the final straightaway of a 4.1-mile jog in San Carlos, a big Doberman pinscher appeared on the sidewalk. It had no leash, and I immediately braced myself, thinking that it was going to jump up and try to knock me over.

I didn't break stride and surprisingly, the dog stepped aside as I noticed the owner was walking about 10 feet behind. I felt like complaining to him for not having "Bane" on a leash, but since the dog didn't lunge, neither did I.

When I returned from dinner in Santa Clara with the "Beybertys" and "The Door", I was infuriated to see that someone had unscrewed and stolen my Scarecrow sprinkler.

I hope the unit breaks and throngs of deer stampede the punk's yard...

...with the punk in it.