When sentiment rules over reason

Before I tell today's story, please take a moment to visit my good friend Antay's site and give him some well-deserved condolences on the loss of his much-loved dog, Angus.

 

As is typical when I know someone who’s had a major sad event in their life, I can’t help applying it to myself. I already know how awful it feels to lose a well-loved pet. So this morning, still thinking about lovely Angus and poor Antay, I looked at Holli, all eager and panting by the door, and lost my senses and took her for a walk at 8 a.m.

 

There’s a reason I don’t usually do this. Namely, she doesn’t do well with dogs she doesn’t know—and it’s a veritable Dogtown around here after the school buses leave and the moms all go out to walk their dogs. I usually wait until later in the morning. But I was feeling all nostalgic and loving of my dogs, so off we went.

 

First up was the docile Cavalier from a couple blocks away. That dog’s owner has already learned to cross the street when he sees us. Then it was the annoying poodle. Holli’s hackles were up. Then the stupid golden retriever who has some aggression issues of his own. Then a barky terrier, a schnauzer, and some big furry thing slightly smaller than a pony. For a 40-pound dog, Holli can really demonstrate some solid muscles—at points I had to hold the leash with both hands. Who needs a weightlifting program? Just walk Holli when she sees dogs she doesn't know.

 

Then some stupid lady jogger comes along with some big mutt, and I cross the street because Holli is already freaking out. The woman stops jogging and starts walking toward me. “Oh,” I say, “You know what, my dog doesn’t do well with dogs she doesn’t know.”

And she says, “Oh, all dogs love my dog.”

Um, lady jogger? No, not all dogs love your dog. If I cross the street and tell you not to come close, guess what—don’t come close.

 

No blood was drawn. But I think a lesson was learned.

 

Finally, a mile from home, it was time to turn around, for all my sentimental and gooey feelings about Holli had pretty well evaporated. She needed to pee, so we stopped, and I heard a little hissing noise that I ignored—until the sprinkler head in the yard next to me suddenly shot up and sprayed me full force.

 

You know what? When you’re wearing wet jeans and a wet t-shirt? 55 degrees is not warm enough.

 

So I’m still very sad for Antay. But Holli will not trick me into walking at 8 a.m. again tomorrow.

 

Comments

[wenders]

Oh, pets. We love them so much, don't we? Great story.

Sending Antay pink light.

[Carrie K]

Poor Antay, how awful. No matter how it turned out, taking Holli for an I Love You walk at 8 am was the thing to do.

[Chris]

Brrrr!

[--Deb]

Okay, I have to go give Chappy a big hug now...

[bezzie]

Sometimes I'm glad I'm a cat person.

[Guinifer]

It's all I can do to keep my two monkeys in the yard when the neighbor creatures go by...

[deb]

Well played Holli!

[Carole]

I'm sorry about your friend's dog. But at least you got a funny story for the blog out of your early morning walk.

[cursingmama]

I feel your pain. Fortunately just about every other dog owner in our neighborhood knows that Harley is a one dog show. Its always a surprise when people just walk on up & assume something about a dog though.

[kmkat]

I am still trying to grok a golden retriever, that most affectionate and waggy-tailed breed of canine, with aggression issues. Perhaps my knowledge of them is not as comprehensive as I thought.

[Miss T]

Sigh. I feel your pain. And Antay's.

[midmodman]

Thanks for the nod, Amy, and the warm thoughts. And walk that crazy Holli every chance you get. Just watch out for the sprinklers, or perhaps wear a bikini top instead. That'll keep the neighborhood talking...

[rudee]

Just be thankful the hissing sound was a sprinkler system and not a slithering creature. Lord knows how Holli would have liked that.

You've a big heart Amy. I'll go visit Antay just as soon as I find the tissues.