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Oh god, oh god; that was almost really bad.
We’re taking the pup for a last walk before bed. Everything’s lovely; it’s a beautiful, calm winter’s night and we’re walking through the quiet laneways that run between the streets of our neighbourhood, lined with the garages at the backs of the gardens.
We see the rotweiller halfway down the laneway, but he is leashed and with three men so we decide we’re going to walk that way anyway. This rotweiller used to be trouble. The master has no idea what training means except that he had probably encouraged the dog’s aggressive side early in its life, probably to compensate for whatever he felt was lacking in his own manhood. The beast used to accompany him unleashed everywhere and it would more and more aggressively nip at the heels of people on the street and, as once happened to Snake, in the laundromat.
He must have had some run-in with authority, because he no longer takes it out by day and never without a leash. So we felt relatively safe walking past. But as we approached, it started barking and snarling and pulling towards us with murderous intent in its eyes. But the owner held tight so we walked by without reacting, trying to stay cool. But then the owner’s friends were yelling at our backs, “watch out, watch out!” so I turn to see the owner on the ground, holding the leash with two hands, being dragged through the snow towards us by the 110 pound brute, its teeth-bared.
The leash held and we scuttled away, but we had to walk for about 20 more minutes just to shake off the fear and to exorcise the mental image of that dog’s teeth on Gougou’s beautiful white-furred throat. I hate that kind of anger filling my soul –- an anger that makes me imagine beating that rotweiller to death with my crowbar. I hate owning that anger and I resent someone raising a dog with no idea what that entails; with no idea that a dog must be socialized if it is to live in society.
He doesn’t speak to his dog. He never said, “Bella! Sit! Down!” He just held tight to the raging nature he had let loose untamed in our city.
Power is in the uncomprehending hands of fools.
We’re taking the pup for a last walk before bed. Everything’s lovely; it’s a beautiful, calm winter’s night and we’re walking through the quiet laneways that run between the streets of our neighbourhood, lined with the garages at the backs of the gardens.
We see the rotweiller halfway down the laneway, but he is leashed and with three men so we decide we’re going to walk that way anyway. This rotweiller used to be trouble. The master has no idea what training means except that he had probably encouraged the dog’s aggressive side early in its life, probably to compensate for whatever he felt was lacking in his own manhood. The beast used to accompany him unleashed everywhere and it would more and more aggressively nip at the heels of people on the street and, as once happened to Snake, in the laundromat.
He must have had some run-in with authority, because he no longer takes it out by day and never without a leash. So we felt relatively safe walking past. But as we approached, it started barking and snarling and pulling towards us with murderous intent in its eyes. But the owner held tight so we walked by without reacting, trying to stay cool. But then the owner’s friends were yelling at our backs, “watch out, watch out!” so I turn to see the owner on the ground, holding the leash with two hands, being dragged through the snow towards us by the 110 pound brute, its teeth-bared.
The leash held and we scuttled away, but we had to walk for about 20 more minutes just to shake off the fear and to exorcise the mental image of that dog’s teeth on Gougou’s beautiful white-furred throat. I hate that kind of anger filling my soul –- an anger that makes me imagine beating that rotweiller to death with my crowbar. I hate owning that anger and I resent someone raising a dog with no idea what that entails; with no idea that a dog must be socialized if it is to live in society.
He doesn’t speak to his dog. He never said, “Bella! Sit! Down!” He just held tight to the raging nature he had let loose untamed in our city.
Power is in the uncomprehending hands of fools.
