Our family is much less sterile, and even more fun than this.
Anyroad, we went to hang out, and complain about life, and enjoy the sunshine and each other. All these things were accomplished. As we strolled along, chatting, we came across a group of older walkers, standing in a cluster blocking half the pathway, with their four--unleashed--dogs milling around blocking the rest of the pathway. Now, all dogs are supposed to be leashed in this area, but there's no point making enemies if you don't have to, so we let the dogs all meet (not that we had a choice), keeping an eye on one of my cousin's dogs, who gets nervous and nippy around bigger dogs.
"He's got a bit of a Napoleon complex," my cousin said, later.
Nervous Dog did great, which my cousin commented on, and we continued on our way, exchanging knowing looks about dumb dog owners, only to realize Unleashed Dog #3 was tailing us. The owner came huffing up, eventually, calling the dog, which paid absolutely no attention to her. I was peeved at this point and stood in-between the dogs, trying to block hers from Nervous Dog.
"You don't need to do that!" she said. "[Unleashed Dog #3] won't hurt him!"
"Ma'am, you're supposed to have your dogs on a leash," I said.
"[My Unleashed Dogs] are friendly!!" she said, angrily, as if that made everything okay.
"Well, this dog gets nervous around bigger dogs," I said, pointing to Nervous Dog. "And they're still supposed to be on leashes."
"SHE said he was fine!" Angry Lady said wrathfully, the "she" referring to my cousin and her previous, surprised comment about Nervous Dog's lack of nervousness.
Then we exchanged a few heated comments, hers mostly about us, to her dog she was attempting to leash. She then tried to continue down the path, loudly saying to Now-Leashed Dog #3 "no, I'm sorry, they don't WANT to be friends!"and other such passive-aggressive comments, while interjecting her commentary on us with trying to call Unleashed Dog #4 to follow her. Unleashed Dog #4 did not think she was very important, and continued circling and bothering our dogs.
"You obviously do not have control of your dogs!" I called after her, while we stood still, confident, waiting; interested to see how long it would take before she had to sheepishly come back and physically leash Unleashed Dog #4. It took a lot longer than it should have, then she faded off into the distance again with her animals, complaining about people who won't let their dogs have friends.
Then we passed a pile of steaming doggy poo.
"I bet that's theirs, too," said my cousin.
~*~
After this charming interaction, we went to the off-leash, fenced-in area to let our dogs have some fun. Several dogs and their owners came and went. Then I saw her. A large, fluffy, magnificent German Shepherd.
Such dignity.
"Shepherd!" I said. She turned away from the other dogs she was playing with and looked at me, and made a bee-line for me. I crouched down and she leaned up against me, panting, and let me pet her all over. I found her itchy spot, which she liked, and then after talking to her for a few moments, I figured I should acknowledge her owner.
"What's her name?" I asked him.
"Petra," he said.
Petra, deciding that I was now more interested in her human, and our interview was up, stood up, strode over to her owner, sat down squarely in front of him, and looked up expectantly. He gave her a treat, and made shame-faced eye contact with me.
"She's a therapy dog," he explained, sheepishly. "She marked you as her patient, and gave you therapy, and now she gets her treat."
I laughed. "Well, she was right," I said.
I went home and told the story to Garrett. "The thing is," he said. "She probably did know. I bet she might even have been able to smell and recognize your meds."
Best dog.
