Beagle Treats

 

“Is that a beagle?” Tromping down the final hill at Wildcat Canyon, I’ve spotted a beagle within in a group of chatting hikers. Ian and I have been walking for over an hour and while it’s been lovely to be outside in nature with the old oak trees, brown grasses, and puffy clouds, we’re both pretty puffed at this point.

            But I can’t resist a beagle!

            “Yes, it is,” the woman who’s holding him on his leash smiles at me.

            “Cute!” I exclaim. “My parents had a beagle. They are just the cutest.”

            “Yes, they are,” she agrees, answering me even though I’m interrupting the conversation she’s having with two other women and a couple guys, who Ian and I had seen earlier. Or mostly, heard: “I’d rather have the Toxins in my body, eat the toxins, and live 5 years less, than deprive myself of them,” one of the guys had blared into the air. Ian had shaken his head, “Easy for him to say, he’s young. Wait till you’re an old man!”

            Now Toxin Guys are here chatting with Beagle Lady and her two other women friends. It’s a friendly place, Wildcat Canyon is.

            Back to the beagle. He completely ignores my overtures. The more I try to coax him over, the less interested he is. “Here, I’ll give you guys a treat to give him. Then you’ll be his best friend.”

            Beagle Lady retrieves two treats from her fanny pack, begins to hand them over to us when….WHOOOSHHHHH! A bike whizzes by, the man on it earbudded in. He careens very close to the group, going at least 40 miles an hour. Or so it seems.

            Beagle Lady shrieks. Backs up. Toxin Man starts yelling: “HEY! ASSHOLE! WATCH THE HELL WHERE YOU’RE GOING. SHARE THE ROAD AND ALL THAT SHIT!!!!”

            Zooming Bike Man makes no response; he’s long gone down the path now, probably not even hearing the yelling.

            “FUCK YOU!!!!!” Toxin Man screams at the top of his lungs. Steam coming out of ears if that were possible.

            The rest of us all sigh a collective breath of relief. But Toxin Man isn’t done. “Those guys make me so mad! I have a friend who was recently hit by a bike.”
            “Oh, no!” Beagle Lady exclaims. “Were they hurt?”
            “Yeah, yeah, they were. They’re okay, but I don’t get it. What’s with the Share the Road and all that shit? I mean….”
            Another bike comes whizzing through us; this time it’s a woman clad in black spandex and a long brown ponytail trailing after her.

            “HEY! FUCKER!” Toxin Man yells again.

            She ignores him.

            “See what I mean?” Toxin Man shakes his head vigorously, his sweaty bald pate glistening in the early afternoon sun.

            “I am all for sharing the road,” Beagle Lady offers, “but they have to share it!”

            Ian and I are just standing there. Trying to avoid getting hit by either bikes or profanity.

The beagle is unfazed. Now starts sniffing around me for his treat. I bend down and give it to him.

            He chomps it down. Heads over to Ian who also produces a treat.

            Beagle Lady tries to smile, “I told you he’d be your best friend with a treat.”

            “Of course,” I grin, bending down to give the beagle a pat on the head.

But he’s finished with me. Knows I don’t have any more treats. His nose to the ground, straining at the least. He’s ready to get on with his odor exploration.

            I rise to leave, “Well, thanks for letting us pet the beagle.”

            Beagle Lady nods, “Sure.”

            She turns back to her friends, starts in on another chat. Toxin Man and his companion aren’t moving, maybe still fuming. Such rage may make it hard to walk.

            Ian and I continue down the shady tree lined path. A lone hawk circles over us, high in the bright blue sky. A cow moos in the distance. The breeze rustles a few fall leaves from their bough that fall in our path.

            I wipe the beagle treat dust on my pants leg and open the car door, plopping down in the passenger seat, ready to head home to a bathroom, some lunch and a nap. 

            The ring of profanity still in my head as I close the car door and settle in for the ride home.