22 August 2008

Am not selling any dogs to gypsies.

Today when I was walking the dogs, and I saw Tube Top Lady and her dogs, I was happy I didn't sell them all at the end of Webb Road the other day. Which is what I threatened them all with. Their phobias and barking and and feral cat stalking and this and that and I'd had it. Told them all I was putting up a sign at the end of our road that said Dogs for Sale Cheap. Free. Matched Set. Scrawled on a sheet of cardboard in sharpie, tacked up to a post down by the cow field, by where the dinosaurs are tied to the chain link fence.

Guess that straightened them up. No one afraid of teeters or ghosts since, using manners and quiet voices, and when we were on a walk and ran into Tube Top Lady, all dogs averted their eyes and trotted on ahead. Because Tube Top Lady scares us. Her dogs always wear sweaters, even like today when it was a sweater. Like you sweat and you don't wear a sweater kind of day. Her big mean dog, in polar fleece, the little lethal one, red sweater. She had on big white sunglasses and a stripey tube top and as soon as she saw me, smiled, let out her flexi leashes and started the mayhem. She always does this. Usually I cross the street, and my dogs, bless their little not for sale anymore hearts, have learned that you just look straight ahead and pretend like they aren't there. Like the kids smoking pot on their bmx bikes in the sidewalk do when they see me. Here comes an invisible lady and we just keep sitting here smoking pot and we can't see her.

Tube Top Lady's dogs start flinging their bodies around, rabid-like and wishing they weren't wearing sweaters, and she just grins and coos at them and we keep going the other way. We see her every few weeks, have for years. Just how she walks her dogs. In the winter, no tube top. A sweater. In the tube top, I am always happy stays up when the dog mayhem on her leashes ensues. I believe she has an underwire support somewhere in there. She is ample bosomy. Not sure what she thinks when she's walking her dogs and they go insane. Before she had the little one, just the big one would do it. Then she added on. Sometimes will just stand on the corner with them while they bark and carry on and we sort of learned how to scurry on by. We never talk to her, and she never talks to us. I sort of imagine that if she could talk, maybe just drool would come out her mouth instead.

Later, walking home from the beach, I see this jack russell named Max that never wears a leash. Even when around cats in the neighborhood. His people are so attractive and tan and dressed nice all the time. Super nice. Clearly a perfect family. I ask his man, "He's ok with all the cats? A jack russell can walk by all the cats?" Because I have cat attack times three. Always wear leashes walking around the neighborhood.

Guy says if the cats stay still, he don't chase 'em. I am impressed. I think one helluva good dog there. Otterpop is giving him the stink eye, because she's been carrying her tennis ball home from the beach and Max is walking nearby, close enough he could snatch it if he was an asshole. Being a really good dog from a good family, he doesn't try to steal it and she even lets me shove it under a fence post a block from the beach, part of our tennis ball underground railroad, because you never know when you're going to just need a dirty old tennis ball somewhere between my house and the beach.

Then the jack russell guy says, "Yeah, but he bit the Fed Ex guy today."

Oh. Well. Oops. Max, you lose. My dogs, SCORE! Will never threaten to sell them off again.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

A day with all good dogs is about the best kind of day there is...uUnless all your days are like that, I guess, but I wouldn't know anything about that.