Canines

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Abstract

e’s a news flash: I don’t. So, please stop tugging and pulling. I’ll come when I’m good and ready.</p><p id="9dfe">The amazing thing is that a six-year old could easily have lifted this mini-dog up and carried him (or her — didn’t get close enough to ascertain which) off, but the battle of wills apparently did not allow for that option. Instead, the lady (probably in her mid-sixties, so no athletic Amazon to be sure) had serious problems with the reluctant canine, he/she did not want to go, and didn’t go. Then found him or her-self slowly dragged along the sidewalk which lasted exactly long enough for the lady to notice that I was watching, at which point she stopped; didn’t look too good, did it, dragging this little defenseless and highly unwilling creature along the sidewalk. For a good five or so seconds the lady watched me watching her then she sighed so well and loudly that there was no mistaking it: huge sigh meaning “what do you do with a dog like this?”</p><p id="2888">I smiled and ra

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ised my shoulders a little to let her know I hadn’t a clue, and then continued on my way.</p><p id="82a1">I didn’t look back to see what was developing behind me, and didn’t look back, and didn’t look back and then looked back only to see the dog happily trotting along beside the (much relieved, I imagine) lady.</p><p id="f20b">Just another day along the Pacific Ocean.</p><p id="6f32">© Wolfstuff</p><div id="ceaa" class="link-block"> <a href="http://wolfstuff.com"> <div> <div> <h2>Wolfstuff</h2> <div><h3>So, who am I? Really really. I could tell you that I was born in northern Sweden during a snow storm, and subsequently…</h3></div> <div><p>wolfstuff.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*4L8j_Jw0QMEF2Mye)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Reluctant Dogs

Image by Author

Paws slide on concrete Leash brown and taut One reluctant dog

It is surprising how strong one of these mini-dogs can be. Not much bigger than the average cat but apparently equally well-clawed; paws like little concrete magnets; immovable object.

And absolutely no, ma’am, I am not going that-a-way, besides I have a plethora of pee-mail still to check, and you just keep tugging and tugging the leash well before I’ve finished reading, so, stop it would ya.

Yes, I know that your nose is blind, but for one, is that my fault, and for two why should I suffer for your insensitivity — and I mean that word in all its meanings and ramifications.

You probably have a tight schedule, but here’s a news flash: I don’t. So, please stop tugging and pulling. I’ll come when I’m good and ready.

The amazing thing is that a six-year old could easily have lifted this mini-dog up and carried him (or her — didn’t get close enough to ascertain which) off, but the battle of wills apparently did not allow for that option. Instead, the lady (probably in her mid-sixties, so no athletic Amazon to be sure) had serious problems with the reluctant canine, he/she did not want to go, and didn’t go. Then found him or her-self slowly dragged along the sidewalk which lasted exactly long enough for the lady to notice that I was watching, at which point she stopped; didn’t look too good, did it, dragging this little defenseless and highly unwilling creature along the sidewalk. For a good five or so seconds the lady watched me watching her then she sighed so well and loudly that there was no mistaking it: huge sigh meaning “what do you do with a dog like this?”

I smiled and raised my shoulders a little to let her know I hadn’t a clue, and then continued on my way.

I didn’t look back to see what was developing behind me, and didn’t look back, and didn’t look back and then looked back only to see the dog happily trotting along beside the (much relieved, I imagine) lady.

Just another day along the Pacific Ocean.