Diablo

 

 

I wasn’t going to walk today. Those Diablo Winds…they’re kicking up again, making the dust fly, the trees fall, and my head ache. But I needed to get out of the house. The Pandemic Couch Potato situation is bad. All day at the computer yesterday and no time for the evening walk.

            And, so this morning, when I saw those Diablo Winds hurling through the avocado tree, I hesitated. Honestly, I just didn’t want to go outside.

            Yet, once I was out, tromping up my street, I immediately felt better. Despite the wind. tt’s good to move. And though I am so missing the swimming lately---the fall winds don’t help the cold---and I’m sick of walking, honestly, I am---I always feel better walking.

            Until….a Dog!

            I am SO sick of the dogs! This one spies me from her front porch. She’s a BIG grey pitbull with a snowy brisket. As I approach her house, she eyes me, longingly? Damn, I think, I hope I don’t get attacked this morning. That would make the winds pale in comparison, right? 

  The other day, when I approached the Taxidermist’s house, a ferocious little monster of a mutt charged me, its little dirty teeth bared and snarling. Its bright eyes focused on biting biting biting me. I stood still and just screamed! And screamed. The beast continued its attack, coming at me with no sign of stopping. Then, because of my screams? The Taxidermist appeared, scooped up the little monster, and carried it back to his ramshackle house. The Floaty Piano teacher appeared, and Taxidermist hissed at her, “What the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to be watchin’ him! You’re drunk! You don’t know what is going on!”

            I didn’t stick around to hear her response. Part of me wanted to stop and yell at them. Demand that they keep their dog from running loose, terrorizing innocent walkers, demand an apology. But a bigger part of me just wanted to get away. And so I did, remembering how a few years back, way before the Pandemic, I’d walked past this house and the dogs had startled me with their barking. I had yelped. The Taxidermist had merely laughed at me, “What you screaming about? They’re tied up. They ain’t gonna get you.”

            “How the hell do I know that?”
            “Hee hee hee, Lady, just look at them!”
At the time I had been incensed. What an asshole! So now, when the ferocious beast had escaped under the drunk piano teacher’s watch, I wasn’t entirely surprised.

            Why do I keep walking past their house?

            I’ve since changed my route.

            Back to this morning: my fear kicked in as soon as I spied the Pit. But then the owner appeared; she’d been pulling weeds in the shadows. “Oh,” I exclaimed. “Is your dog…?”
            “She’s fine. She won’t hurt you. She just thinks everything is about her. That everyone is here to see her.”

            “Ah…” Of course, from a dog’s perspective, that must be true. Why else would I be walking by her house if not to visit her?

            “But don’t you worry. She a good girl.”

            “An angel, no doubt!”

            “You got that right!”

            “What’s her name?”

            “Quanti.”

            I think to myself, what the hell does Quanti mean? Is it short for quantify? Hardly likely. People have the strangest names for their pets. I don’t ask today, though, what this means, but walk on, waving goodbye to Quanti, who now watches me mournfully from the porch. Why didn’t I come up and pet her? Don’t I have a treat for her? Can’t she come with me?

            I often think if I had a dog of my own to walk with me, I might fare better with all the dog attacks and anxiety. But maybe not. I see people struggling with their dogs when they pass houses with other dogs behind tall fences. There is always much ferocious barking and pulling of leashes. Nope, I don’t need this.

            I am one of the few walkers without a dog in my neighborhood. I’ll keep it this way.

            A huge ugly gust of wind whips around me as I head up the next block. Diablo. A menace. Fires. Drought. Ions. I need to get back home, out of the wind. Back to my house. My cat. My shelter. No dogs to contend with there. Only the ongoing Couch Potato Pandemic. Will it ever end?