Terror and Glee

We lock eyes from across the street. Checking each other out simultaneously. He’s stocky and intent, his gaze never leaving mine. Sure, I might outweigh him by 20 lbs, but he’s all muscle and verve.

            I glance up and down the street. No one is out. The pandemic forcing everyone back inside with the latest surge in cases? Or everyone just back at work? Or, maybe just inside watching The Price is Right?

            It’s just the two of us. Definitely no one is in charge of him. He stands at the end of the driveway, stocky and ready to go.

            I quicken my pace, trying to keep my panic at bay. If he senses this I fear I’m doomed.

            I keep my eye on him, but it happens so fast, I’m powerless to do anything but stand my ground. He takes off from his starting point, his stocky legs powerful beneath him, from 0-60 in 3 seconds. I brace myself for the impact, every cell in my body suddenly poised for the attack.

            And then, just as he’s almost upon me, he veers around, like a lasso’s invisible circle, running at full speed.

            I stand and watch in amazement as he finishes his circle around me, his mighty legs skidding along the concrete, before he turns and races back to his driveway starting point.

            Relief spills out of me. I laugh out loud. Suddenly it’s all a cartoon, a big joke. He was never a threat. He just wanted to show me who was boss. He had a job and it was rounding me up. I complied, of course, what else could I do?

            Hurrying down the street, I don’t turn to look at him again, knowing that he’s back at his driveway, in his sentry position waiting for the next walker who might appear.

            Remembering the times I’ve been bitten by dogs, I know that running isn’t an option. The time I was hiking with Lori T and Joanna Banana in the San Gorgonio mountains, a scrappy little beast had appeared out of nowhere, nipping at my heals as I ran as fast as I could away from him. He bit me and then retreated, his job done. I ended up in the emergency room, or I assume I did. Today, I have no recollection of this; I only remember the terror of being chased. My current wariness of dogs a direct result of this attack.

            So, today, when Stocky Racer came at me, I just froze. Was this the right thing to do? Evidently. Nothing happened. He just ran a big circle around me. Why?

            Who knows? Dogs have a purpose and work to do. This one obviously had to encircle me with his running speed. His brown and white thickness belying the speed that he came at me with.

            Where was his ‘owner’? I always wonder this when I’m out walking and I see a dog out without anyone around. No leash. No person. The dog is his own dog. I suppose this would be fine if we didn’t live in an urban area where people walk, esp. during the pandemic when this is our only outlet.

            Yet, today, I’m not mad at this one’s lack of a guardian. Without such restraint, I had a moment of panic, but then a moment of glee.

            Dogs can do that, right?

            Terror and joy! That’s a dog’s life! And ours, too, during this ongoing Covid Crisis’ horror, frustration, and loneliness that only walking can alleviate. For a moment….