The other day, like many other days, Anna my dog brought me to the dog park. She pulled me on the skateboard, which is great because she knows the way, and I don’t have to kick, being that she has four feet that run really well. So we pull up to the dog park and immediately some reincarnation of Cujo starts barking and snarling at me through the fence, as if I were to be torn apart and then left for dead. “No big deal” I thought. He’s behind the fence. I just won’t go in.
The dog’s owner, that crazy dog lady who feels it her obligation to rescue every pound puppy on earth comes running up to the gate. Now, there’s a reason some dogs end up in dog jail. It’s because they fucking attack people. It’s because they’re mean as shit, because they were born into an abusive family, were beaten, or are just plain inbred. It’s sad to say, but it’s the damn truth. Not all dogs go to heaven, some are condemned to hell, and that’s just that.
So this woman takes notice of the situation and says, “He’s a rescue, he doesn’t like skateboards.”
“Well” I ask, “Does he not like skateboards, or does he not like the people who ride skateboards?” “Or both?” “Because he seems pretty pissed off.”
“No, he’s fine. He loves people.” Famous last words.
At this point the woman is holding the dog back like a German police officer who’s about to release the hounds on one of those guys running away in fat suit. And then, that’s exactly what she does. She opens the gate and simply releases the dog which then races towards me and leaps through the air open jawed slashing at my throat. So I pull a Chuck Norris and perform a sort of ghetto looking roundhouse kick which lands squarely on the side of the dog. The dog screams, flying backwards to the ground. I then jump into a Kung Foo stance ready to go ape shit on it’s ass. This probably looked pretty stupid, but I was pretty damn scared, and it’s just what my body naturally did.
“HE’S A RESCUE!!!!!!!” “WHY DID YOU KICK MY DOG, HE’S A RESCUE!!!!”, She screamed and began sobbing.
“I don’t care if that mutt is related to Ghandi” He tried to attack me, and I’m not about to get bit by your stupid ass dog. At this point the dog was cowering, albeit still growling at me in her arms. And my “Goldendoodle” Anna had long since run through the gate and into the dog park, happily chasing a tennis ball. So, I began a walk of shame, through the gates, entering the park. I felt bad, sad, shaken, and still freaked out. There were several other dog owners in the park as well as one overly cute little girl in a sun dress. Mostly everyone tried to pretend they’d not seen what had just unfolded, but the tension was palpable. The woman quickly left the park with her dog, sobbing. No one said a word.
Just as I reached the furthest end of the park, the young girl approached me, the only person brave enough to address the situation. She stopped just a couple feet in front of me, and with her fists held down by her side she said, “YOU SHOULDN”T HAVE KICKED A DOG!” She then quickly turned and ran away.
Yep, I was that guy. The guy who kicked a dog. I tried to apologize, explaining that I acted out in fear, but the little girl was already half way across the park, her sun dress flapping in the wind. I threw the ball with Anna for a few minutes and then decided to leave. But of course I had to walk past everyone now once more. And just as I reached the gate to leave, the girl’s mother turned to me and said, “I’d have kicked that mother fucker too.”
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