I have to make more of an effort to be outside during the winter. Some days I force myself to run and force my kids to bundle up with me and walk the dogs, who never need to be coerced to go outside with us. In fact they do the pressuring. Around 5 every evening they start pacing and looking at me so intently, trying to figure out if my opening the refrigerator door will somehow lead to me reaching into the closet for my coat and the leashes. They sit, all tense and concentrating to hear the magic word we now have to spell (W-A-L-K) so they won’t go bananas.
Poor guys, they haven’t given up yet, even though we haven’t been able to walk them for months due to a whole new crop of loose, aggressive dogs in the neighborhood. I just don’t think my old guy is up for fighting a pit bull.
And this is where I was going with this post: a rant.
(a lover not a fighter, 365 Day 333
Why do people in the suburbs, with nothing worth stealing have to have pit bulls? In the last 2 weeks I have been chased twice, had a couple of them run toward me but be frightened by my stick, narrowly avoided two that were off of their property, and seen a man beat one almost to death with a golf club to get it off of one of his little puppies. It coughed up blood on my driveway. I felt sick about it. When I approached it, it shied away to hide under a house. The owner said it jumped through a closed window to get a cat and must’ve wandered to my street. (Maybe this was supposed to reassure me.) He said he’d bring it to a clinic. Right. Then, he mentioned that the dog had attacked another dog before and they’d beat it with a shovel to get it off of him! At times like this I hate my refinery-fried neighborhood. And I’m not just talking about dilapidated rent houses with confederate flags flying in place of curtains. Some of these dogs are coming from very nice homes on a nearby lake.
Yesterday the owner of one that chased me ran out of his house with a baseball bat that he seemed to have ready at the door for such an occasion, swatting at his dog with it.
Of course, they never, ever apologize.
Maybe it’s a southern, red-neck thing to think dogs bred for fighting are cool to tie up in your unfenced yard while your neighbor has small children at play.
Do you think they get wormed, or vaccinated, or trained, or handled at all? Most of the time they seem to multiply with each week that I run by. The people with the least business having an animal, collect more and more.
So, I have to find a new place to run. My son can’t ride his bike unless I’m with him and armed, and my old dog that needs to lose 10 pounds can’t go for a walk unless I get him in the car and drive to someone else’s neighborhood. Maybe this is why I’ve felt a little cloistered lately. The face above is a “can we go now?” face.
And below is one of resignation. Or laziness.