Nancy Kerrigan Time

Life has provided so much content lately. Today alone I've planned to write you about 5 different stories. Here's the most recent.

Before I begin I want to make it crystal clear that the issue you're about to assess was entirely my dog's fault. He bears the full weight of the foolishness upon his tiny, angry shoulders. The woman who figures prominently here is not exactly to blame but I would like to take her out for an apology drink as an opportunity to ask why she chose to approach the challenge the way she did.

Anyway, I was taking Bobby for a spin today after work. Stopped at home, got keys, got Ed, went over there. To get into Kath's building you enter an unlocked door and stand in a small foyer, maybe 5' by 8', where you either buzz for a resident to let you in or use your key to get into the lobby and hallway with the mailboxes and elevators and whatnot.

On my way out with both dogs as I came through the lobby area I saw an elderly couple getting out their keys to come in. It was likely that they'd be nervous about the big dog and the little dog has great potential to trip people and the lady didn't look completely steady on her pins so I choked up on both leashes and awkwardly shouldered my way through the inner door, checking to be sure the gentleman could grab the door and that the dogs didn't bother them.

Eddie and I must have focused on the outer door at the same time. Within a breath he was full on chupacabra, barking and foaming at the mouth and generally being an asshole. What we'd seen was, of course, another dog. This was a young, milk chocolatey colored pit bull that I know slightly. He'd been abandoned in or near the park, gotten passed around to two foster homes to assure he wouldn't be euthanized and his third foster home has decided to keep him permanently. All I know of him confirms that he's a good dog, sweet and funny, recently neutered, being well trained by his people, but young enough to still be in the noodle headed stage of dog development. Oh, and I knew that he was standing about an inch from the closed outer door.

I had three choices. 1. I could bull through the door and past this dog and hope that speed and determination would yield good results. (Can hardly even type that with a straight face.) 2. I could elbow the old folks out of the way, retreat into the only slightly larger lobby and hope to regain control of the tiny furious one in the brief time it took the woman and her dog to get through the doors and past us. I chose a third option for two reasons. A. because I didn't know how Bob would react. He rarely acts out in these situations but with a group dynamic you just can't tell. If I was in motion I couldn't guarantee my control of a mini whirling dervish and 75lbs of happy hound. I preferred to be caught flat footed, very flat feet on the ground, evenly spaced for maximum stability and strength. B. because I didn't know the person with the other dog and I'm always more worried about what the person will do than the dog. An attentive, proactive person I trust and want to work with. Thankfully I was already choked way up on the leashes and I yanked us all over as close as I could get to the wall in single file so we took up as little of the center space as possible. Eddie was in front of me so I leaned down and got him even closer, essentially standing him up on his hind legs while I held his harness. In a show of my trademark elegance I pulled Bob as close behind me as possible. The operative word there is behind. Basically I unceremoniously jammed his entire snout between my ass cheeks. I actually put the ass in class.

As I see it the woman had two choices. 1. She could continue forward past our batshit insane display of "strong personalities." 2. She could back away from the door and move to the side so that we could vacate the smaller space and leave her and her young, impressionable dog to enter their home unmolested. Oh, and you know, there's probably a third for her, too. She could have stood right there in front of the door waiting to see what I'd do. I'm super glad she didn't choose that one.

She, of course, chose number one. (Why? WHY?!) What followed I really wish we had on tape because it must have been hilarious. She didn't even choke up on her dog's leash so he, happy as a clam to see other dogs, and such playful ones, too, comes prancing toward us with a huge, goofball grin. Bob squirms slightly but can't see since he's sucking the dust out of the seam of my jeans doesn't really react. Eddie actually lifts his back legs from the floor the better to spin from the fulcrum of my deathgrip on his harness while roaring his feelings of superiority. The other dog gets so excited he drops the ball he was carrying in his mouth and it rolls straight at me. I, for once in my life, make the perfect soccer save but send the ball back toward the outer door. The dog is blessedly distracted from us but lunges full force for the ball, spinning his girl around in the process. Her eyes have understandably begun to get a little wide by now but she doesn't lose hold of the leash and, once he gets the ball, they proceed through the inner door.

I can only imagine the conversation the old couple had when they got to their apartment.

No one was hurt in this scenario and his complete inability to interpret Ed's outrage kind of makes me love that pit more but it didn't exactly set the tone for a delightful walk. Eddie proceeded to be an epod for the duration.  Yet another day, though, when it's a good thing I live alone. At least no one's going to ask why my ass smells like dog breath.