It seems like forever. Either

November 20, 2003

It seems like forever. Either that means its been a long time or that it looks like it will last. After a thrilling arena rock vacation I have dedicated myself to a week of almost single parenthood. My other half is here but she’s busy making up for the work time lost while I was galavanting about doing what I do. Home life is harder but ultimately more rewarding. I couldn’t muster the energy to make “diary style” postings regarding the Colin James tour because I guess its boring for me and that’s not what this is all about. This is about what’s interesting to me. People can read it and see what might be interesting to another person. I was waiting for whimsy or profundity to strike and I’m not sure if that will happen. Off I go anyway.

The dirty look. My instinct is to ignore it rather than call bullshit. I then let it well up inside and harbour loathing for a little while. I’m a considerate dog owner. No poop goes unscooped. Everyone gets a “warning: enthusiastic big puppy approaching...is that OK with you?” on the tree lined trail where we meet upwards of twenty dogs a day. They play, act standoffish, yip, jump, run, sniff and generally get their ya-yas out before heading back to a few more hours of sniffing, lying and chewing around the house. This is what dogs do. If you take your dog to one of these designated dog areas you better be ready for some socializing. This is a given in suburban dog culture. Yesterday my mutt was looking for some action. Not a few leaps and bounds and then moving on. She wanted the full, "run through the underbrush to emerge dressed in a camouflage of sticks, burrs, slobber, leaves and mud" type of play. She had tried to get it going with a few older dogs and then politely moved on when we ran into a gang of four walking sedately up toward us. They were accompanied by three female humans who were deep in conversation about what I discerned to be the trials of menopause ( I heard only fragments). My puppy and I seemed to be spoiling everything. She tried to get the other four to play and got only partially there. One particular spaniel reacted by darting in and out of the legs of his/her human. This meant that my pup got pretty close as well. What was more disturbing to them. I felt, was my appearance. Dyed red hair peaking out from a black Tragically Hip toque, unshaven and sporting the most lived in jeans and boots I could find. True woodsmen’s apparel. Did they not know that Little Red Riding Hood had been saved by a woodsman? Did they not know that these were Canadian woods? I was smiling and friendly and apologizing for the enthusiasm of a dog that really needed no apologizing for. My eyes met those of one of the now silent humans and I expected a dewy “this is normal fun for dogs” type of reassuring smile. No. I have seen more pliable faces on statues. I have seen more positive emotion in an early “Tool” video. Her copy of “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff” must have long ago fallen in and clogged the toilet when she stood up to wash her hands with holy water and wipe them on a doily. This made getting hit in the head with an eraser with a crack shot from the vice principal seem like a warm towel before the hot meal. Her look forced my eyes away like magnets do when they're lined up the wrong way. Nothing could ever get me to look at her one more time.
I said not a word. It took me a few minutes to finally snag my beautiful girl and bolt silently ahead of them up the trail. I muttered “good girl” in a loop and thought, “stupid cow” in another loop inside my head. I tried to imagine the scenario in a few different ways. I played out the “action and reaction” scenes in my head.

a) I could have sniped something sarcastic -- as is my hobby. “I’m so happy my pup could spread this new leprotosis virus to all the dogs so that we could all just get it over with before the BIG outbreak”. “I can hardly wait for my dog to become old, neurotic and tired so I can get the kind of peace you are enjoying right now”. “Isn’t it great how these off-leash runs can bring people like us together through our dogs?”. “I know this turd I’m holding in the bag must smell. I’m sorry. Its better there than having one right under your nose though. Isn’t it?”
b) I could have asked if she had a problem with the way the dog was behaving (in a sarcastic way) -- “Do you have a problem with friendly dogs because I could just pretend you were trying to hurt me and maybe she would attack?”
c) I could have been sincere and asked her to justify her disdain for me. This would have led either to backpedalling on her account or a release of entertaining vitriol.
d) I could have said, “Oh relax you silly person. This is a dog run and my dog is in no way out of line with what you can expect at two minute intervals on this trail. She is helping your dogs have a good time and maintains a healthy and happy attitude despite being attacked by a few of the real problem dogs on this run. Your dog can sort her out in two seconds. If you have a problem with me then I suggest you have a problem with this whole place and all the people and dogs who are smiling and happy and walking and running and shitting and pissing and swimming and fucking and barking and generally doing all the things I do in the privacy of my own home with my chimps and my electric bronco riding machine and my Victoria Secret catalog sculpture and my automatic weapons and my jellied salad collection and my Carpenters records. ”

That would make her smile.

Moments later I met a person up the trail who had received a similar cold gaze of death and our dogs romped for a good while.

This brings me to a new chapter in the dog owner saga. Those who know exactly what to do with a dog. There are so many of them out there. I received a good half hour lecture about raw food diets from a woman with a healthy moustache who asked me, “why wouldn’t you do zis for your dog!? You do love her as much as your kids don’t you!?” This did not require a complex answer. I paused and said, “No. I love her but obviously I love my kids more”. I should have added, “If I had to I would definitely eat her first” or “that’s why I have my kids on a doggie raw food diet and I just feed this bitch Ritz Crackers and Diet Coke” (for effect ...see above list of answers after the fact for trends in my thinking) but I didn’t. I keep bumping into this one denizen of the “no leash at anytime” people who walks an imposing, silent if not gently growling oversized Doberman. She ALWAYS forgets who I am and asks me why my dog is on a leash. I tell her the truth, “she was just off the leash for half an hour and I need to get her home” or “she’s just a puppy and she’s learning not to bolt in front of cars”. What I should say is, “this is the third time you’ve asked me. Do you have some suggestions on how I should train my dog? Oh... and by the way since we’ve met a couple of times before I am concerned that you might have some memory loss and may have forgotten where you live or how to swipe your card at a “pay as you go” gas pump or how or how to appear less sanctimonious”.
I never give “parenting tips” unless solicited but people seem far more ready to just jump in with their opinions when it comes to the canine world. All of the opinions conflict. There are experts who disagree. We all need our areas of expertise to form our self image. I understand. Let it go. Let it go. Let it go.

Rant is over. I want to go walk the dog.