Disclaimer: This post may seem anti-pet, but it is not. Instead, it is anti-me getting bit by your pets.
I run. Okay. I'm sorry. I only do it so when I die the local fire department doesn't have to remove a wall to get my dead body off the living room floor, where my pounds of flesh have grafted to the king-sized mattress and Dave is weeping over my body saying, "If only she stopped eating all those McNuggets!" I hope you can forgive me. I started running after college because I figured I'd be bored with just working (and I was) and I wanted to do something I suck at. The obvious choice was sports. Four years into it and I have to admit, I kinda like it. But running has changed my life in a few ways. One, I have thighs now, which kinda sucks because apparently when the gods of jean making sat around a table to discuss how jeans should work they uniformly decided that if a girl has thighs she also must have hips. NOT SO JEAN GODS. I present myself as exhibit A.
The second change: I am now terrified of dogs. It started last year, when a dog chased after me on a morning run and got hit by a car. Not just any dog, a cute fluffy terrier, whose owner had an anxiety attack in the middle of the street, prompting the firemen to come and loads of PTSD for me. Now, if you've seen 101 Dalmatians, you know about the "twilight bark", which I happen to vigorously believe in.
I believe that the dogs spread the news about me through the "twilight bark." Because ever since then, I've been chased by more dogs than I can count. There was the golden retriever who nipped at my heels, while the owner yelled at me to just stop and I wouldn't get hurt. Causing me to yell back, that I'd report the dog to police if I got hurt. To which the owner responded that the dog was owned by a 6-year-old and was kind. I looked a the dog who was growling into my crotch and yelled that I didn't care if the dog was owned by Jesus himself, if it touched me it was getting reported and they better come take it. They did.
The small black mutt who chased me in this creepy horror movie slow run. I swear he never more than trotted, but every time I looked behind me he was a few steps away growling and brandishing an axe.
The giant bear-looking dog who chased Dave and I on a walk. We walked slowly and carefully, while he growled inches away. He followed us for a block before turning around and running back home. A month later we biked down that street and got chased by the same dog. I refuse to even go near the street anymore.
And who can forget the happy yellow lab who runs with me for a block or two at least once a month.
A few weeks ago, a new dog showed up on my running route. A particularly vicious black lab, bolted off a porch and across the lawn after me. I stopped and started walking. The dog, despite his foaming at the mouth, never left the yard. I figured the owners had an electric fence and continued on. A week later, I saw him again. The dog ran to the edge of the yard, snarling and barking. Definitely an electric fence. But I was still nervous, so I walked until I was out of sight. This week, I was running by the house and I saw the dog again in the yard and slowed down. He ran to the edge of the lawn, snarling and growling. That's when I noticed a woman in the yard raking leaves. "He won't hurt you," she yelled.
And at this moment, I would like to pause and say why on earth do dog owners insist their dogs are harmless as the snarl and bark, lunging for my flesh. YES. Your dog will hurt me. It wants to hurt me. It is looking at me and envisioning a hot dog in running shorts.
"Do you have an electric fence?" I asked crossing over to the other side of the street. The woman raked a huge pile of leaves to the curb, "Yes."
The dog who was pacing near the owner, leapt over the pile of leaves onto the street. I had time to utter one expletive before the owner, who either has great reflexes or ample practice, grabbed the dog's collar.
Let me just spell out to you what happened. The dog was so eager to tear me into kibble, that he busted through an electric fence.
As I ran away, I yelled one word over my shoulder, "LEASH!"
Friday, November 13, 2009
Why I hate your dog
Monday, October 26, 2009
Iowa in the fall
This is just a little collage of the things I see when I run (or walk and listen to Neil Conan).
One of the best parts about running is that it makes me notice whats around me. The painted address on the telephone pole. The leaves that match the "Dead End" sign and the family of toothless grinning pumpkins.
Fall is my favorite time of year, because everyone is always a little haunted and the branches on the trees look like witches fingers. Also, CANDY.
Ode to Autumn
I took this while I was working out on Saturday, at my gym, known as the STREETS. I love my neighborhood.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The binding binds me and THE Andrei Codrescu together
My essay about working at a taekwondo magazine is out in the Yellow Medicine Review. Also, Andrei Codrescu is in it and I'm in the same journal as him!!AHHHHHHH!
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
PTSD
With the exception of the lady who peers into our windows and yells at us for not coming to her terrible garage sales, we have the best neighbors.
When we moved into our house, it was known as the rainbow house, because of a conspicuous pastel rainbow painted over the front door. Our first night, our across the street neighbors, Joe and Natalie, came over and said, "You have to paint that thing, NOW!" We wanted to get rid of the rainbow, but you see. When we closed on the house, the people who owned it kind of freaked out and refused to give us the key, sucking us and several local banks into a cycle of crazy, that ended in the couple demanding that the closing money be given to them in cash. The couple's bank finally agreed that okay, they could come withdraw the money at 9pm on a Friday night and kept the bank open just for them. But, the couple never showed up to withdraw the money and we never got our key. So, on move in day, we hired a lock smith to drill our locks and we busted into our new home. All of this and the couple we bought the house from, lives four houses away. The moving day ended with one of the former owners of the house coming over, demanding to be let in and when I refused she collapsed sobbing on my shoulder. So, naturally, after breaking and entering into our new house and the whole crying thing, we didn't want to aggravate the situation further by painting over their carefully cultivated pastel rainbow.
We explained all of this to Joe and Natalie, our neighbors, as we sipped wine in our new house. When we were done, Natalie said, "So, what's your point?" And at 10:45pm, we drove a car onto the lawn and turned on the headlights. Natalie and Joe drug over their ladder and a paint brush and we each took turns painting away the rainbow. This is the kind of neighbors they are.
A week ago, on Thursday. Joe and Natalie's son was in a car accident and they flew down to Georgia to be with him. This year has been tough for them. Natalie's mom has been fighting a losing a battle to breast cancer. Joe is a pastor of a local church and the recession has been hitting all churches pretty hard. This has given Dave and I a little bit of PTSD. Because our 2007, was a lot like this. A month after Dave's dad died of cancer, two of my sisters ( I have four total) were in a devastating car accident. One sister spent weeks in the hospital and later, months at our home, learning to walk again. Through it all, our neighbors were our best support and ally. They let us borrow a bed, plied us with booze and friendship and Natalie even gave me advice on how to handle suddenly having an 18-year-old in my home. Tip #1: Don't make eye contact, back away slowly.
So, I hope and pray that the same grace, love and humor that they have extended to us will be extended to them. And all I can do is take their dog on walks, try and make sure their car doesn't fight other cats in the neighborhood and stock their shelves with wine.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Accceptance
Looks like my essay about my time working with The Grandmaster will be published in The Yellow Medicine Review. Don't know what I'm talking about? Stay tuned for a link to one of the craziest but true stories that singlehandedly made me a hit at parties.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Runner's trots
Last year, I ran my first half-marathon, with a lot of encouragement from my friend Mel. This year, I did it again. This time with my brother.
At the last mile, when my brother saw the finish line, he ripped off his bandanna and yelled, "IT'S ON!" And when I stopped laughing, I ran ahead and beat him like a rented mule.
But really, not much beats crossing the finish line with your brother.
