This just hasn't been a particularly good week. I'm still in recovery mode from the work crush in May and I really do not suffer fools gladly while that is in progress. If I were still commuting into Austin, this would undoubtedly be the time when my middle finger would be getting sufficient exercise. Thankfully my commute is presently helping to calm me down with views of grazing cows and, this morning, a napping pinto horse curled up like a kitten in the tall grass. When I'm this tired, I am thankful for such distractions that bring a smile amidst all the aggravations that make me want to scream and hurl things.
So, anyway, last night at 8PM we headed out for our nightly walk. Contrary to what would be the sensible thing to do, I have remained on our usual route and am being careful to look way ahead on the block where the bouncey Pogo might be so I can scoop up the wee ones before we get there. Last night I had just spotted Pogo and was calculating at what point I needed to grab the dogs, when out of left field came an animated ball of fluff barking furiously, with its owner running behind yelling for it to come back.
Mojo took one look, said "screw this" and hit the end of the leash headed the opposite direction - toward a very busy street - and popped his collar off. Away he ran, with me and Coco in panicked pursuit, and us being followed by the fur ball and the pudgy owner. (I really don't know what the neighborhood would do without us for late evening entertainment.)
Well, if it had been Coco I might still be running after her yelling "stop!". But Mojo is my little scaredy-cat and after looking behind to make sure the fur ball had been taken into custody, slowed down and made for the safe haven of Mommy.
Of course by this time Pogo had caught on that she was missing out on the fun and was lying in wait for her chance. But Coco and Mojo were perfectly willing to be carried at that point and we passed without further incident, with Pogo's owners still trying to catch her.
The wee ones had recovered their equilibrium by the time we got home, but it took me awhile to get over the scare of how close he had come to dashing out in traffic. It amazes me that these same two little dogs had been eager to make the acquaintance of a little dacshund on another block, had dared two mean dogs through a fence and had strained to smell two passing boxers, but are terrified when a fur ball heads their way, unrestrained and yapping. Logical, they ain't.
Tonight we walk another way. Far be it from me to be so stingy and prohibit another street from laughing their collective ass off at my expense. It should not be long before I have a reputation in the neighborhood. If I don't already.