my racist, anxious dog who barks at the lesbian-owned German Shepherd mixes and their little buddy Thor

Ah, what a beautiful evening it was. The sky was every color imaginable, a cool breeze blew through the neighborhood, and there were almost no sounds. Actually, the no sound thing was a little creepy, because it was kinda calm-before-the-storm quiet and got me thinking about how President Amajibberjabber wants to blow up the world or something tomorrow, but then I also remembered that Jesus totally kicks Mohammed’s pinkytoe, and the sky was beautiful again.

About a block and a half from home, Rowdi decided she was going to lead me home. Oh no she dih-int! So it was:

Ohhhhh, Mommy I’ll just die if I don’t run run run, because I think I hear something way up there, and it could be a dog or a person or a bird or a figment of my imagination or wind or my own breath, or we should just go check it ouuuuuuuuuttttt!

Stop. Come here. Sit. Let’s walk.

Ohhhhh, Mommy I’ll just die if I don’t run run run, because I think I hear something way up there, and it could be a dog or a person or a bird or a figment of my imagination or wind or my own breath, or we should just go check it ouuuuuuuuuttttt!

Stop. Come here. Sit. Let’s walk.

And so on. And then we passed this nice black lady who absolutely refuses to make eye contact or exchange mild pleasantries with me any time she’s out walking and I’m walking the dog. Seriously, we’ve passed like 10 times over the past few months, and she will not make eye contact and I always say hello, and apparently that iPod is up so loud that she simply cannot hear me, so I take it up a notch every single time, and apparently I’ve just not reached that decibel quantity that makes me audible. Anyway, Rowdi loooooves black people. I’m not kidding. If we see a white person, Rowdi wants to meet that person. But a black person? My racist dog is trying to knock me over and jump around me because she will just die if she cannot meet and sniff and kiss every last black person on earth.

So I made Rowdi sit and wait until the very nice black lady who loves me as much as Rowdi loves her was around the the corner and far down our street. And Rowdi was whining and raring to go.

Let’s walk.

Oooooooohhhh, Mommy, I’ll just die if I don’t follow her and sniff her and love her and squish her and lick her, I’ll just die!

Stop. Come here. Sit. Let’s walk. Ok, Rowdi. Stop. Go make (that means sniff and pee). She didn’t pee.

And so on. Then we got on to our street, and she needed to suddenly investigate the tall pampas grass off the sidewalk. Urgently. Um, no. So I’d had enough and decided to run, not jog, the rest of the way home. Aaaaaaand the whole black family was congregating in front of their house in the middle of the street, and I just kept running, dog trying to jump around me, and I just kept running.

And we were almost home, and Mommy, I’ll just die if I don’t go so much faster than you!

Stop. Sit. Then…

sing-song voice… “ROWWWWWDIIIII!!!!” Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. It’s the very nice lesbians and their German Shepherd mixes who bark and their little dog Thor, and they’re talking to someone with another little dog. I’m a house down from my house, and they’re parked in front of my driveway in the middle of the street having a dog jamboree.

Mommy, I’ll just die if I don’t get over there right now, I love the lesbians!

And I’d had it, yes I had. And then one of the nice lesbians said, “We’re not helping, are we?” and I barked, “NO!!” and one of the Shepherds barked, and Rowdi said, “You want a piece of me?” and the other lady with her little dog left and the lesbians who always talk to Frank when he walks Rowdi turned around and went home. And I said apologetically to the lesbian backs, “Well, no, she can meet your dogs, but she has to be nice when she meets them, she can’t be a brat…” But you know. They were already to the next house and didn’t so much as give me an understanding wave.

Then Rowdi tried to sniff to pee in our front yard. Oh heck no. You had your chance. And I got to the door and yelled “Sit” loudly enough that the entire neighborhood must have taken their seats, and the door was locked, and I’m quite sure that I knocked loud enough for the entire neighborhood to check their peepholes too. I couldn’t be bothered with the doorbell.

I didn’t even cook for Frank tonight. I was going to make him chicken fried pork chops (yeah, that’s right) and mashed potatos (yep, that too, uh huh) and serve it with fresh fruit. I had him make us caesar salad. Under supervision.

2 Responses to my racist, anxious dog who barks at the lesbian-owned German Shepherd mixes and their little buddy Thor

  1. Pingback: basil's blog » Blogrolling 2006-08-23

  2. You totally crack me up. You and Frank both.

    And the racist/lesbian/dog encounter, that probably topped em all.

    ROFL, keep up the good work.