Enjoying lunch in a crowded dining establishment and there is a woman EASILY pushing 70 with some kind of Chihuahua mix "support animal" milling around near her feet and in the aisle.

I love dogs. I do. But this has gotten beyond out of hand.

This thing was started by soldiers coping with life after combat and has morphed into an attention farming vehicle for Gran Gran down at the kuh-fay (That's Southern Boomer for Cafe)

Traumatized are you Gramma? Got PTSD from 47 years of sitting on your fatshit ass and letting ol man-tits Clyde there plow into you every Wednesday and Saturday night?! Need little Sparky to help you cope with the trauma while you slurp down that tomato soup, do ya??