Stephen and his dog

“Don’t you ever come near my wife again! The No Trespassing sign in front is for you!”

I looked at the dog that I was bringing back, and for the first time, I could see the resemblance. Physical I mean. The little dog was much friendlier, his tail was all wagging. It was missing the glasses, but the hair color was pretty much the same, shaggy brown-grey, the unshaven face, hair all over. But I may be wrong, he scared me, the man I mean.

“Call animal control, do what you want to do, but don’t come here again! My wife was trying to rest Saturday morning and you and your husband showed up and…”

He was rambling on and the only thing I could remember was that the wife in question looked like a wet dog, humm… Maybe I do have a thing about dogs. She said I did, that I didn’t like dogs. I like them just fine, just not in my tulips or my wildflowers. Especially not the little brown balls they leave behind. But of course, I am being totally unreasonable. Doesn’t that work as a fertilizer or something? And besides, I don’t quite see his logic here. I can’t walk on his property but his dog can poop on mine. Let me think about that one for awhile.

Oh well, I guess I shouldn’t make too much of a fuss about it. There are dogs everywhere here. Can someone tell me why people have this uncontrollable urge to own dogs? And dogs that bark and poop, no less. And that for some reason can’t stay in their yards. Maybe I’m on to something. Control. But actually who controls whom? Sometimes I think dogs are slowly training their masters. Look at how some of them talk to their dogs, little crooning noises. “Tootsie, tootsie, lookie, lookie, mommy, mommy. Hoooo such a pretty little baby!”

Anyway, eventually I came back home, he had run out of steam. After a while, I heard the kids running and yelling on the street. If I had bothered to look, I bet you I would have seen the little offending dog. Poor smooch! He doesn’t even realize he’s a star, that people are making such a fuss over him. Eventually the kids got tired of making the racket, and I’m sure my friend felt really good about himself. “That’ll teach her!” Ooooh he taught me alright. I don’t know what, but I’m sure he taught me something.

Now what do I do? Maybe I should just roll over and play dead…

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