Things I Should Have Said

I was peacefully walking my dog when I looked up and saw this strange lady across the street. You know, one of those people that has annoying stamped all over their face.

She was walking two crappy looking dogs, had a very weird hat on, and a severely troubling smile. Not a friendly smile that said, "Hey, I know you're probably busy so I'm not gonna waste your time with useless shit." I read the smile as, "You're my next victim to annoy."

I did. I tried my best to ignore her. She didn't exist, I thought. I tried to adhere to the philosophy that until you observe something, it doesn't exist.

Exist she did. She yelled across the street at me, her voice smashing through all the speeding cars – "Do you mind if my dogs come over and say hi?" I think she was panting. Maybe she even soiled herself at the excitement of it all.

My social training flawlessly kicked in.

This is what I said – "Oh sorry, she's not very friendly", referring to the dog, of course. This is the baldest lie I have ever told. Completely shaven. The truth is that Sydney, the dog, is the most person-friendly canine I have ever met. She will stop to say hi to every human within a 5 kilometre radius, if she can smell them.

This is what I should have said – "Oh sorry, I'm not very friendly. I might even bite. Actually, I'm on a muzzle order, but I'm not wearing it now. Don't tell anyone, okay?"

As we walked in opposite directions, she kept staring at me, as if she didn't quite believe that Sydney was a danger. I don't blame her. Sydney has the friendliest face of the canine kingdom.

I love dogs. I also love my daughter. But when I'm dragging her around on her leash, that doesn't mean I want to meet other teenagers, and their parents. I most certainly don't need to cross a busy street to do it.

Maybe I should wear my muzzle from now on.