Imagine this situation:

You’re Bonnie, a bad mama-jama criminal. You’re driving a truck with expired tags. You’re not a smart mama-jama, remember, you’re a bad mama-jama.

The cops notice your expired tags and pull you over. But wait! You’ve got a warrant out for your arrest. What do you do? You can’t go back to the slammer! Remember, Baby? You still owe her some ciggies! Make a run for it, Bonnie! DO IT!

You bolt out of the truck and hop the fence of the nearest house. You’re free!

Not quite. You’re running, you’re running, you’re running… What’s that noise?

You hear barking. Loud barking. Really loud, really deep barking. And it’s getting closer. You’re still running but you turn around just in time to see… to see… WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?

That would be Thor, my 190 pound Great Dane. Oh, and Maxi another 90 pounds and lab/boxer muscle coming after you at full speed.

Suddenly you find yourself pressed against the fence screaming at the top of your voice: “HELP! PLEASE, OFFICER, HELP! IT’S GONNA EAT ME!”

So much for a clean getaway, Bonnie. Two officers and a pair of handcuffs later and you’re safe and sound in the back of the patrol car. What are you going to tell Baby?