Well, today was a dandy (rough day at work, lots and lots of idiots, a greasy lunch, crowded Bus and L, with someone losing their manners, and the power out in my building), and I thought I would decompress over at the lake.
I brought Bill Evans “Conversations with myself” with me. It was the right type of music and the title seemed appropriate. Sooooo, there I am sitting against a tree with a decent breeze and a limón jarito. Joggers, dog walkers, people watchers, perverts, milfs, ice cream vendors, jailbait, softball teams, cops trying to get girls phone numbers and the gulls.
After about ten minutes of this I found myself staring at this little kid, maybe a year old, trying to pet the family’s retriever. The poor dog was being slapped and whacked like a ball of dough. But the kid couldn’t help it, he just wanted to pet the big furry thing. I changed my focus to the dog and it was staring at me with a “It’s like this every day” look in his eyes. My eyes responded “Yeah, I know what you mean pooch, but what can you do?” And wouldn’t you know it, as soon as that thought left my mind, the dog turns and lays the sloppiest lick on the kids face. From the kids chin all the way to his forehead was a thick film of dog slobber. Little Billy waddled back, ran his hand across his face, and just stood there. Little Billy could do nothing but take it. It’s not like the dog bit him or snapped at him.
I looked back at the dog as he was stretching out on the grass and I swear he winked at me.