TOO CLOSE

‘Maybe’ is strong, only two years old but strong for his age. He’s stronger than I am which means I have to be extra careful. I wrap his leash around my wrist, hold the loop to near numbness. ‘Sit, Sit, Maybe,’ I command. Silly name but I knew from first hugging my new puppy, that maybe I’d lose him someday, that maybe he wouldn’t be smart, maybe training him would destroy my new oak floors or not training him would destroy me, maybe.

Usually Maybe is playful, fetches, catches the Frisbee, chases his own floppy tail but not always. We start out peacefully today on our early morning walk. He starts to growl deeply from his chest, strains to go forward. Trouble runs up a tree, hides its fuzzy gray tail amongst a green jacaranda tree, many of its fallen beautiful lavender flowers laying on the slippery ground. I hold onto Maybe, mostly for my own security. ‘Let’s go, dog. You can’t catch the squirrel.’ Surprisingly, the 100 lb. animal attached to my arm, turns his head, looks longingly once more into the tree and starts our walk again. Six feet (four of his) stand at the curb waiting until the four stop corner is safe to cross. Maybe doesn’t tug. He watches all directions.

No sooner do we cross than I’m almost knocked to the ground, still holding the leash. My knee is scraped but I get up quickly, believe I have control of Maybe, but knew at once, maybe I didn’t. On the other side of the street, two women in identical shorts and tee shirts (except one wears blue and one white), are strolling, walking, talking enjoying spring. The lady in white has an adorable gray poodle pup on an extension leash. They stop while the pup makes on a tree and go forward. Wham, I’m off my feet again, this time in the gutter. I scream. The surprise and force of Maybe’s mad dash pulls the leash from my hand. He drags it across toward the ladies with the puppy. I am still sitting on the curb, afraid to stay, afraid to move. The ladies shrivel up, scared of the dog eating monster coming at them. They don’t even see me. Maybe makes it across, stops short in front of the quivering women. I sit where I am, thinking, wishing, I had my camera with me. Maybe, his tongue hanging almost down to his collar, sits more still than I do. I see him move closer and put one paw on the puppy, being cradled in the arm of white shorts. He licks the little puppy with tenderness, puts his paw down and barks to me. Maybe sits as taught, don’t cross the street without me. Something he forgets too often. Finally I can get up, gather his leash that has been run over several times and go to retrieve my Retriever.

I must look pitiful but the two ladies are cussing me, swearing to sueme. ‘Sue me? I know you were frightened but Maybe didn’t hurt you. Either of us could have been killed. So cool it! Take your cute doggie home and be aware of what is around you.’ Inside I’m mocking myself and my own carelessness.

‘I’m going home now. As soon as I get there I will contact Maybe’s trainer who can refresh both of us on behavior.’ Maybe.