Avocados and Pitbulls

 

At first, I thought this walking journal was going to be about avocados. Cuz that’s how the story started. But as I mused about where to start the story, I realized that I’ve got a theme going here: dogs.

            And, so now that you have the theme, let me start at the beginning.

            I’m on my usual walk up and around Clinton hill. I start up the hill around the back side of it toward El Cerrito, under the sweet fruit trees that line the sidewalk on this part of the block. I spy a green garbage bin and a person busy loading it up just ahead of me, blocking my path. I make the requisite half moon walk out into the street for social distancing, but see that the person is a young woman, lank brown hair, tank top and shorts. She’s busy pulling at the smallish (compared to mine) avocado tree.

            I stop to chat.

            “Are you getting any avocados this year?”

            She brushes a stray strand of hair out of her eyes with the back of her arm, “Well, not really. Unless you count these.” She points at the tiny avocados that, now as I look more closely, are weighing down the branches.

            “Oh, yeah,” I grin. “Those count. Are they tasty?”

            “Actually, yeah, they are. But it’s strange how some years they are small like this and other years, they’re large. And then they seem to come at different times of the year. Like sometimes, I’m picking avocados in December!”

            She laughs, charmingly.

            “I know what you mean,” I say. “I think of avocados as normally being a summer fruit, but my tree, too, sometimes offers up the fruit in the winter. A kind of Christmas present, right?”

            Again, her charming laugh. “Yes! Exactly!” she exclaims, continuing to pull at the fruit. I notice now that a white pit bull has entered the scene. She sniffs around Charming Laugh’s legs and then noses the ground, sniffing at the dirt. I instinctively back away.

            But the dog continues to inch toward me. Seemingly benign. Her energy is soft. She moves slowly. I don’t feel threatened.

            Well, maybe a little.

            “Luna! Come back over here!”

            Luna ignores her. Comes up to me and nose out, sniffing, her brown eyes begging for a pat. I hesitantly stretch out my hand to test the doggie waters. Luna sniffs, then nuzzles my hand. I pet the top of her head. She would coo if she could.

            “Sweet Luna,” I murmur.

            “Yes, she’s a good girl.”

            I tell Charming Laugh about my recent experience with the Pitbull charge over on 29^th street. How the dog saw me from across the street. Eyed me for a moment, then raced toward me, paralyzing me for a moment as he ran a big circle around me. Then returning to his driveway.

            Charming Laugh shakes her head, “That sounds really scary.”

            “Yes, it was. I have no idea where the owner was. No one else was around…..” My voice trails off as I think about the close call I had.

            “We have kids.” Luna is done with me and has moved on to licking something gooey off the sidewalk. “She’s very gentle.”

            “Yes, I could sense that,” I answer. “Plus, you’re right here.”

            She laughs again, though this time a little more nervously. We’ve ventured into dangerous territory? Pit bulls have a reputation.

            I continue, “My sister had a pit bull who was just the sweetest dog. She wouldn’t have hurt a fly.”

            “Yes, same with Luna.”

            She goes back to scrutinizing the avocado tree. “You’re welcome to take some avocados if you want. There are enough of them.” She goes back to her charming laugh.

            “Oh, thanks,” I say. “I might take you up on that if my tree doesn’t produce any fruit this summer. Or I could always come back at Christmas!”

            This time her laughter enchants me. She tosses back her head, and smiles into the tree. Luna has circled back to her, and is now seated on her flip flopped barely covered feet.

            “Well, nice chatting with you,” I say. “Bye Luna.”

            “Say ‘bye’ Luna.”

            Luna stares up at her, adoration in her doggie eyes. Does not say goodbye to me.

            I head up and around the bend, my walk near its end, thinking about Christmas, avocados and dogs. Oh my!