between the barks

i was at my spot again yesterday off the trail by the creek. after half an hour there, i walked back to the trail and found a dirt path heading in a different direction, so i took it. it led me out to a familiar scene, part of an abandoned golf course where i often run. i was disoriented at first because i wasn't expecting to be there, and then i saw a dog -- a little poop colored chiuaua. it approached me somewhat aggressively, but i wasn't startled... after all, it was only a couple times bigger than our rat. the owner came walking up, and then the dog decided to bark. i started involunarily, which embarrassed me a bit especially when the owner said (with a sardonic grin, i think), "don't worry his bark is bigger than his bite." my thought was, put the little sh*t on a leash or put it out of my misery.

i continued walking. it was a beautiful day; as crisp and sweet as any i've experienced recently. i approached a small bridge that ran over the creek, and noticed red blossoms from the trees above carpeting the ground as if a wedding procession with an overzealous flower girl had just passed. as i approached the end of the course, i heard barking again and a couple of unleashed dogs approached me aggressively. two sh*t hued hounds (dachsunds i believe) ran right up to my ankles, yapping like cocky juveniles might to a homeless man they pass on the street. i stepped back, because even though they couldn't cause serious damage, they were all too close for comfort, and i didn't particularly need a pair of dog slippers after i put my feet up their asses ( but i hadn't counted the idea out either). the owner eventually came out of the backyard apologizing profusely. i accepted graciously and moved on.

it seems to me that there are often annoying dogs nipping at your ankles, barking at you simply because you exist. perhaps the best policy is just to keep walking and enjoy the intervals (however short they may be) between the barks.

dog porn

I remember a bike ride I took a few months ago. Toward the end of it, I came across two dogs in someone's front yard behind a chain linked fence having sex. There they were right out in the open doing their thing. It seemed kind of bizarre to me. I mean obviously it's perfectly natural, but i guess it was the openness of it that caught me off guard. Here I am riding by, and they see me, but just keep on doing it anyway. There was no running off into the bushes or anything like that. They just.. well, you know.

The awkwardness of it made me reflect on a basic difference between man and animal. You don't see this kind of behavior amongst humans. Even if a couple decides they need new scenery to spice things up, they're going to generally find an isolated place to hook up. And they're not going to look too kindly on anyone interrupting their session. Doubtless you've heard the expression, or seen the bumper sticker "if the van is rockin', don't come a knockin;."

There is quite an enormous exception though when it comes to this human need for coitus concealment...pornography. I say enormous because it's one of the largest money making industries in the world. The purpose of pornography, of course, is to provide erotic stimulus to the purchaser of said entertainment through the exposure of the sexual exploits of others. This industry then makes its money by steering humans away from their innate sense of mating modesty and moving them toward a voyeuristic openness. It seems to me, such a move is a clear behavioral regression. It's a slide downwards away from true humanity toward a more bestial state of being. It's remarkably similar, in fact, to dogs having sex in the front yard behind a chain linked fence.

rotties and reveries

So I’m running and I hear a dog bark. My first instinct? Look around. Look for water, a climbable tree, a fence, a ditch, a heavy branch, an abandoned bike, an open car door, a knife, a gun, or a vortex of some sort. Sounds extreme, I know. But I have my reasons, largely stemming from being mauled by 2 hell hounds (aka rottweilers) 7 years ago while jogging. It was probably my only real near death experience. I mean I’ve had close calls while driving and other minor sh#t like that, but these beasts tore me to the ground. I was expecting my throat to be ripped open any second, and I literally thought to myself, “This is a horrible way to die.” But somehow I survived (divine intervention, I’m convinced) with only about 9 bites to the major defense areas (arms, legs, buttocks). Nonetheless, seven years later, the sound of a bigger dog barking sends my mind into a state of alertness as I weigh out my options to avoid another such encounter. But…then there’s the side of me when I’m running with my extendable steel baton that desires another chance at fight or flight, hoping this time, with the odds evened out a bit, that I would choose the former. I fantasize while running sometimes about beating the hell out of a pit bull or a rotty (I hate that word – it makes them sound so cuddly). I come running to the rescue of a child or elderly victim. One of the beasts attaches itself to my arm while I break the jaw of the other. The pain only spurs on my anger as I leap into the lake and drown the animal in full view of its redneck owner who comes out to see what’s going on. Seeing one of his dogs with a split open head and the other one floating in the water incites him to come after me in a blind rage. But my fist meets his face before he can even step into the water. A nerdowell is down for the count and his bastard pit bulls will never menace the free world again…. Okay, okay, I’m going a little far with this fantasy. Maybe instead of “prometheus spark” this blog should be dubbed “Walter Mitty’s Musings.” But perhaps fantasy can be helpful when dealing with posttraumatic stress. After all, with such fantasies we recreate the situation but with a positive end. But then again, I don’t know… maybe it’s unhealthy. Maybe someone can help me out with this.