Adventures in Dogwalking

The Path Less Shoveled
Originally uploaded by leespeaks.

The length of unshoveled sidewalk between us had been tromped into single-file trench. The other guy and his dog stood at the other end waving for Gordy and me to come on through. Back at my end of the trough, I was thinking about crossing the street, but Kenmore was looking pretty slushy and full of melty chemicals that are unfriendly to dog feet. So I took the other guy's offer.

Gordy is in most respects an upstanding animal, but he does tend to lose his cool around other dogs, complete with the apeshit yapping and even the occasional throat lunge. We used to have a big dog, three times Gordy's size, who thought this was a blast. Most people and dogs you meet out on the street are not so understanding.

So halfway through the trench, I scooped Gordy up and prepared my usual explanation: "This one's a troublemaker," or words to that effect. As we passed, the other guy's dog rose up tentatively on its hind legs for a polite sniff, and I said something like, "Well, aren't you a cutie," because it was indeed a cute dog, a tawny mid-sized whippet-pinscher mix. I was about to turn and say thanks to the other guy when he erupted.

"You're not even gonna say thank you? What an ASSHOLE!"

With that, he stomped off down the little snow ditch, yanking the whippet-pinscher mix behind him. The next words from me were the thanks he was apparently so in need of, but his reply was to yell, "Fuck you, man!"

Like the first thing he said, this came out sounding so wounded and plaintive and out of proportion that I was trying not to laugh when I called out another thanks and added a wish for a good evening. Still clomping away, the other guy hollered back another F bomb, adding his hope that Gordy would someday get hit by a car. I called back another wish for a good evening and closed with a "God bless!" that I'll admit strayed into Jerry Lewis territory.

As Gordy and I went on up the street, I tried but failed to maintain any sense of offense as the whole business quickly transmuted into satire. Sure, my mind churned out the usual sarcastic things that tend to come to you after such an encounter, but it was also turning every "fuck" the other guy said into "flurg," making it even more difficult not to laugh, because to me, "Flurg you, man!" is pretty fucking funny.

Of course, I still feel sorry for the other guy's dog.