Monday, May 29, 2006
Caesar is a pussy, not an attack dog
For one thing, the number of available discarded chicken bones increases exponentially, as both dogs will dart off for a prize piece of garbage food, requiring advanced and often mechanically challenging leash management skills. When they dart off to consume said edible refuse, they do so unexpectedly, often causing me to experience the sensation of one or both arms being yanked from their sockets. Also, the park gets really crowded, and a lot of the people populating it seem to be scared of Caesar. I can't understand this, because Caesar is the silliest (albeit most devastatingly handsome) dog in the world. He loves going to the park, and when we're there he always has his tongue (which is on par with Gene Simmons's in terms of length) hanging out the side of his mouth, a big doggity grin on his face, and his tail wagging frenziedly. He's a curious fetch aficionado, not a freaking pit fighter. Does this goofball look scary to you?
Because he is a 110-pound German Shepherd-Rottie mix, I think that people are prejudiced towards him because of his appearance as such. The dogophobes see his massive frame come trotting toward them, and presumably envision the encounter proceeding something like this:
Despite my assurances to frightened bystanders that Caesar is not trained in Abu Ghraib prisoner of war interrogation techniques, the dogophobes always stare at me reproachfully and alarmedly until we pass. I usually have to find some out-of-the-way corner of the park populated only by sleeping bums to let him off the leash so he can chase sticks and squirrels without eliciting ire and/or stark terror from my fellow parkgoers.
Tonight, all the dogophobes at the park were provided with ample evidence that Caesar is not only a gentle giant, but is in fact a huge wimp. Thunderstorms were blowing in, and the second we walked outside I knew it was going to be a short walk. As we got to the park, several huge bolts of lightning rent the sky, followed by several incredibly loud, booming peals of thunder. Caesar immediately turned tail and tried to run back to the apartment building. I gave him a sharp correction on the leash, and resolved to finish our walk, so at least he and Chingy! would get a chance to piss. As the thunderstorm grew more intense and it started to drizzle, Caesar started whining really loudly. By "really loudly" I mean it sounded like audio feedback played through the speakers at Giant Stadium. While we walked past the playground where a group of die-hard BBQ-ers were huddling out of the rain, one woman observed, "That dog sounds like he's in pain." I tried to explain about his fear of thunder and loud, startling noises, but all I got was a look of communal reproach from the people watching us. Great. The only way I can make people not be scared of Caesar is to have them suspect that I'm somehow abusing him.
My dog is a total wuss, and people should just recognize that and stop freaking out whenever they see him. In fact, just now Caesar got scared by another thunderclap and jumped under my desk, because hiding under my feet is the only way he can stay safe from the loud scary noises. So to all my neighbors: stop discriminating against him for his appearance. He's the biggest pussy this side of Convent Ave.
: 6/02/2006 1:39 PM : 6/30/2006 3:30 PM Links to this post:
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