Confessions of a Serial Swooper

Husband and I took the Lazy Labrador and the boys for a walk yesterday.  There’s a terrific path that runs for miles from our town into Salem and maybe even beyond.  (I’ve never actually walked far enough to find out for sure.) From the entry area off our road, we can elect to go left along a path that includes a duck pond, a playground and an off-road woods trail.  Or, we can go right along a path that leads to the small harbor area where Marblehead meets Salem.   It’s great because (although letting your dog run free is technically not allowed due to leash laws – meh), it’s a phenomenal off-leash spot.  As long as your dog stays in earshot enough to keep him out-of-the-way of on-coming bikers and you’re diligent about leashing him up when you approach leash-law abiding citizens, it rocks.  Lazy Labrador hits the path for an hour or so then sleeps for the rest of the afternoon.  And, most of the next day.  And the path is surrounded by tallish brush and plantings on both sides which means as long as your mutt doesn’t poop in the path, it’s also a no poop-scoop zone.  Another bonus.   Lazy arrives on the path and, smelling millions of other dogs, pees like a madman on everything he can lift a leg at.   He loves it.

So…nearly at our turn-around point yesterday, we encounter a nice young man and his dog, Dakota.  Dakota looks like a white German Shepherd.  (I’ll bet some of you know what that breed is, don’t you?).  Anyway, it’s irrelevant.

The dog is not interesting for its breed but rather for the fact that he’s clearly paralyzed in his hind legs.  He has a half of a bicycle set up in back with two wheels and a harness supporting his end.  His front paws propelled him neatly forward.

Lazy Labrador greeted them with his usual a**hole barking and yanking on his leash to get at the other dog.  Truth is, if translated, his idiot barking would likely mean:

I’m barking a lot ’cause I’m trying to sound really loud and tough because my family is with me!  But, I’m actually a complete and total pansy who sleeps all day so please don’t choose to eat me for dinner.  Please?  Woof.

The Shepherd barely batted an eye at our foolish hound.   And, neither did his owner who totally ruined Lazy Labrador’s street cred by looking at Husband and casually asking “Is he friendly?” (as our dog nearly coughed a lung pulling at his leash and baring his teeth).  Umm.  Yeah.  He is.   Shut up, you big dopey dog.

And, with that, Lazy Labrador settled down and the two dogs were friends.  Or at least, intimate acquaintances as they madly sniffed away at each other’s privates. Ick.   Dogs are so gross.

Anyway, I watched and wondered what the boys would think about the dog on wheels.  Would they wonder how it worked?  Would they, as they gently pet his soft doggie head, wonder what was wrong with sweet Dakota?  Would their childish curiosity in the moment lead to a difficult conversation about physical disabilities when we arrived back home?

We grown-ups exchanged a few words.  The kids remained quiet.  It was time to move along.

Then Big Brother decided he something to say.

Umm.  Excuse me, but can I tell you something?

I held my breath.

Yes?, the nice man replied.

Well, my dog?  Back there on the path?   Well, he…

After taking a deep breath, Big Brother continues.

Back there on the path? Well.  My dog pissed all over my father’s foot.

Yup.

That’s our boy.

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