A few weeks ago, I wrote a post titled, “Dear Neighbor“, in which I mentioned how one of the people in my neighborhood thinks you house train a puppy by leaving that puppy outside. No surprise, he also has dogs that leave his yard.
This story took place a few months ago, and I’ve had it in draft form for a bit, finally getting around to posting it.
Ya’ll know we walk in the dark. In our neighborhood, we don’t have sidewalks, so when we walk, typically the dogs are walking close to the curb, or on someone’s lawn. When you live in the DADO capital of the world, you learn which houses have e-fences, and which yards to be wary of.
Unless you don’t.
The dogs have their favorite routes. Sampson’s is to see people he loves, while Delilah’s. Well who knows why she likes it, but she does.
Of course, I dress for the weather, whatever that might be, but I try to keep it comfortable.
This particular damp morning I had on a light jacket and some slip on sneakers. As is Delilah’s usual MO, she heads towards her favorite route. So there we are, walking along in the dark, and we approach the DADO’s house. This DADO used to have a yellow lab that he kept outside a lot. Her name was Sarah and once, she came out of her yard to follow us. That time, I dropped Sampson’s leash, and hustled Delilah along. I’m not sure what happened to Sarah, but he apparently has another yellow lab, that isn’t quite so friendly.
This particular morning there we were, walking along quite contentedly, when suddenly, this large, yellow lab, comes flying around the side of the house, snarling and growling like a fool, and comes rushing out into the street. I immediately made to move away, and shelter Delilah, and in the process, I lost my left shoe.
I don’t wear, nor do I like shoes, so I don’t see the problem.
So there I stood, socked foot planted firmly on the wet street, with my shoe, the shoe that kept my foot dry, a good five feet away. I contemplated if those castle steps were as uncomfortable on Cinderella’s feet as the wet street was on mine.
But I stood there anyway, standing my ground. I fluffed myself up as big as I could, and in my sternest voice said, “GET IN YOUR YARD. GO!”
And he did.
I retrieved my shoe, and finished the walk with one damp foot.
Ever since that morning, I’ve avoided walking past that house.
It’s a damn shame when some Dumb Ass Dog Owner ruins it for everyone else.
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