I just read this entry to Kevin and he didn't like it
I don’t know what it is about me but I attract crazy people. I’m not sure what it is, but for some reason ladies with shopping carts full of cats, and men wearing two different left shoes are comfortable stopping me on the street to discuss crack cocaine, my haircut, or the latest conspiracy theory. I am always unfailingly polite towards them. I nod and say “oh really?” when they inform me that Madonna, while a brilliant singer is also the antichrist. I smile weakly, I am patronizing, and I do all the appropriate things befitting a person of my liberal education and socioeconomic status. The truth of the matter is that I am indebted to these people, and not just in a “off the backs of the poor” way most bleeding heart liberals would have you believe. The thing is, these people won’t stop helping me. They won’t stop picking up my shopping bags when I drop them, asking me if I need directions, and offering me beer when I walk out of the bank. And yes, okay sure, some of these people would knife you in a dark alley if they got the chance, but the ones I keep running into keep doling out advice and favours.
Take the woman who caught my dog yesterday when she ran away. Now, my dog runs away like every other day. It’s embarrassing. The neighbours are talking. She is clever, my dog. She knows how I think, and is smarter than me. She likes to get loose and have me chase her while I alternately plead with her and yell gibberish threats. “You stupid bitch! You have no moral responsibility! You know what happens to bad dogs? They go to hell! I love you! Please come home Lola!” No wonder the neighbours are talking. She weaves through the residential traffic, running towards me and then dodging away at the last minute while I run after her usually in bare feet and nothing but a bathrobe. Again, it’s no wonder the neighbours are talking. Throughout this little charade, Lola greets everyone she meets on the sidewalk by jumping all over them and then peeing at their feet. The people usually do one of two things: push her down and tell her to go away or ignore her and offer helpful advice like “you should catch her” or “She’s going to get hit by a car”, occasionally they will also point in her direction, so as to show me where she is. Thank you neighbours.
Yesterday though, a woman with a baby carriage and a Labrador retriever grabbed her and held her by her collar until I caught up. I scooped Lola up into my arms and started expressing my thanks and admiration for the middle aged woman in orange sweatpants who had caught my dog. She responded by telling me that if Lola got picked up by the pound three times that they would ship my dog out of province. “Oh, my gosh! Really?” I hadn’t known this. If Lola went to the pound three times, she could end up living in Alberta with all the oil capitalists? It was too terrible to think about. She assured me it was true. Her dog liked to escape too and he had gone to the pound twice. Now when they went out he had to go on his leash so that they didn’t grab him, and then she paused for emphasis...even at the park. Animal control parked their trucks by the park and when they saw loose dogs, they grabbed them, even if you were there. “You’re joking!” I said, “You don’t even get a warning?” “Nope,” she shook her head, “No warnings. They just like to grab dogs. My dog understands. That’s why I have him with this leash, and I have this baby carriage.” Up until this point, I had assumed here was a baby in her baby carriage. I looked. There wasn’t. “Good idea.” I said. I had no idea. “It’s the same with children” she continued. “People wonder why children don’t want to go to the park. The park is so fun. ‘No I don’t want to go to the park, I’m scared’ and people don’t understand. It’s because they grab children too. Children are just playing at the park, and they park their vans nearby and they grab them. People are grabbing children.” She finished solemnly. “That’s terrible,” I said. “It really is,” she agreed. We both paused for a minute to appreciate the gravity of the situation. “Well l guess I should go and take her home,” I said, gesturing towards Lola who was sleeping in my arms by now. “It was nice meeting you,” she said politely. “Yes, and thank you so much for your help.” There was an awkward silence while I realized that we were both headed in the same direction. “Good bye,” I said and started walking in the opposite direction from my house. It was at this moment when I realized I still wasn’t wearing clothes or shoes. I continued walking until I couldn’t see her anymore, and then I walked back home.
I would like to never see this woman again, and yet she was so helpful. I feel so torn about crazy people. Thoughts and opinions?
Take the woman who caught my dog yesterday when she ran away. Now, my dog runs away like every other day. It’s embarrassing. The neighbours are talking. She is clever, my dog. She knows how I think, and is smarter than me. She likes to get loose and have me chase her while I alternately plead with her and yell gibberish threats. “You stupid bitch! You have no moral responsibility! You know what happens to bad dogs? They go to hell! I love you! Please come home Lola!” No wonder the neighbours are talking. She weaves through the residential traffic, running towards me and then dodging away at the last minute while I run after her usually in bare feet and nothing but a bathrobe. Again, it’s no wonder the neighbours are talking. Throughout this little charade, Lola greets everyone she meets on the sidewalk by jumping all over them and then peeing at their feet. The people usually do one of two things: push her down and tell her to go away or ignore her and offer helpful advice like “you should catch her” or “She’s going to get hit by a car”, occasionally they will also point in her direction, so as to show me where she is. Thank you neighbours.
Yesterday though, a woman with a baby carriage and a Labrador retriever grabbed her and held her by her collar until I caught up. I scooped Lola up into my arms and started expressing my thanks and admiration for the middle aged woman in orange sweatpants who had caught my dog. She responded by telling me that if Lola got picked up by the pound three times that they would ship my dog out of province. “Oh, my gosh! Really?” I hadn’t known this. If Lola went to the pound three times, she could end up living in Alberta with all the oil capitalists? It was too terrible to think about. She assured me it was true. Her dog liked to escape too and he had gone to the pound twice. Now when they went out he had to go on his leash so that they didn’t grab him, and then she paused for emphasis...even at the park. Animal control parked their trucks by the park and when they saw loose dogs, they grabbed them, even if you were there. “You’re joking!” I said, “You don’t even get a warning?” “Nope,” she shook her head, “No warnings. They just like to grab dogs. My dog understands. That’s why I have him with this leash, and I have this baby carriage.” Up until this point, I had assumed here was a baby in her baby carriage. I looked. There wasn’t. “Good idea.” I said. I had no idea. “It’s the same with children” she continued. “People wonder why children don’t want to go to the park. The park is so fun. ‘No I don’t want to go to the park, I’m scared’ and people don’t understand. It’s because they grab children too. Children are just playing at the park, and they park their vans nearby and they grab them. People are grabbing children.” She finished solemnly. “That’s terrible,” I said. “It really is,” she agreed. We both paused for a minute to appreciate the gravity of the situation. “Well l guess I should go and take her home,” I said, gesturing towards Lola who was sleeping in my arms by now. “It was nice meeting you,” she said politely. “Yes, and thank you so much for your help.” There was an awkward silence while I realized that we were both headed in the same direction. “Good bye,” I said and started walking in the opposite direction from my house. It was at this moment when I realized I still wasn’t wearing clothes or shoes. I continued walking until I couldn’t see her anymore, and then I walked back home.
I would like to never see this woman again, and yet she was so helpful. I feel so torn about crazy people. Thoughts and opinions?