Occasional Scribbles

Honestly! I’m going to have to pay careful attention to what time Skinny and I go out for our walk each day.  You may recall my post about the evil Man with the big black Labrador and exactly what I think of him!  Very unfortunately I stomped out of our house at about half past four yesterday, not in the best mood in the world owing to troubles with The Teen that I won’t bore you with now.  I took off at a fast pace while Skinny raced ahead of me.  I had my head down in grumpy contemplation when I suddenly heard the screech of tyres as a car shot round the corner just as Skinny got there too. Fortunately they missed each other.  I was very annoyed to see that it was The Man again in his huge Volvo Estate car; the very last person I wanted to see.  Skinny slunk off guiltily, leaving me to deal with him.

I could have said that he was going too fast, that he knew perfectly well that there was a good chance of seeing either Skinny or other dogs and people along the lane and that he should have slowed down.  But I didn’t bother.  I was hoping to get away as quickly as possible and praying that he wasn’t going to let his black beast out of the car for a repeat of the last performance.  I hoped in vain.  He pulled up further along and as if there had been no time between now and the last time we met, launched into a conversation about how, inspite of his beast being exhausted after our last outing in the fields, he’d had to take him out again later.  I can’t quite put my finger on why The Man is so annoying other than the obvious and previously stated.   But a casual analysis of his character leads me to think that he is an oddball, a loner and very strange.  He has a way of saying things that leads you to think something but which in fact, turn out to be something else. The two dogs ran for quite a long time together so it was completely reasonable to assume that his dog, exhausted, had laid down and had a jolly good snooze, but instead we get the punchline.  “But!” he says with a manic glint in his eye, “e only lays down for five minutes! (laugh, ha ha) then, I had to take him out again, he was up and ready for some more!” he laughs as if this is totally unbelievable though it’s hardly out of the realms of possibility and frankly I couldn’t care less and am not interested.  Of course it may be his way of bragging about the strength and stamina of his dog as compared to Skinny who did indeed collapse in a heap and stayed there snoring loudly for the entire evening! 

I have to admit that I was in a truculent mood long before he was silly enough to stop me.  I tried to head off, walking backwards as I talked as if I was in a hurry but before I got very far, he whipped round the back of the car and let the beast out.  It seems that now we both know that his dog isn’t going to have Skinny for dinner and that the two muts actually get on well enough, he has decided not to ask me if I mind them joining us on our walks and of course it wouldn’t occur to him that perhaps we don’t want his company. 

The dog, relieved to be let out of the car having spent the entire working day in it, promptly looks around for a suitable spot to relieve himself.  Skinny keeps running up to him cheekily and flirtatiously, diving away just as she gets his attention and running around him at such lightening speed that the dog has no idea where she is, unable to match her swift twists and turns.  The poor lad though, still needing to find a spot uninterupted, wonders along the edge of the field sniffing here and there, stopping, turning, then moving on until he finds just the right place.  His whole behaviour is typical and easily recognisable of a dog needing to carry out his business .   And  so what followed was completely unbelievable.

I noticed the last time we met, that when the dog was let out and quite naturally, wanted to do his business before playing with Skinny, the man didn’t appear to recognise his needs.  Instead of letting the dog get on with it, he kept trying to get him to chase Skinny and run in the field, constantly calling him over and interupting him and then calling him daft when the dog kept returning to the edge of the field, looking for a place to relieve himself.  The dog behaved in much the same way yesterday and while his owner was chatting to me, he managed to start his business.  To my utter astonishment, The Man noticing this, turned to me and said,  “he wants to have a pee and a crap, do you know how I know this?”  Puzzled by this question since it was already so obvious, I let him tell me.  “I know this is going to sound rude and all but when *** wants to go, his arsehole gets really big.”  He pauses, looking at me.  I am lost for words.  “Yea, you know how small and tight it is usually, well when he needs to go, it gets really big” he gives an idea by circling his fingers to show me what he means.  I am so utterly amazed at what I am hearing, not because it is so crude, but because this ignorant jerk is telling me this in all seriousness and I am dumbstruck.

Finally my truculence gets the better of me and in exacerbation, my voice raised, I point to the dog.  “That there is what tells you that your dog needs to go to the loo.  All that turning around, sniffing, stopping, squatting down, that”, I say, “is what tells you this.”  And you know, he really hadn’t recognised this behavior for what it was. I know – it beggars belief! 

The dog has finally carried out this most basic of needs and The Man moves along onto another subject.  Before I can move away, he is suddenly standing right in front of me, up close, his face inches from mine.  It’s horrible.  I daren’t breathe, in case I smell his breath and his forehead is glistening with a thin film of sweat, his eyes large behind horn rimmed glasses, thinning hair slicked back over his head.  I reel backwards from this intrusion into my private space, slightly taken aback.  It turns out he is demonstrating the way he stood up to someone during a recent altercation.

I’d really had enough of him by now.  Luckily I spot the Teen waving at me across the field, trying to get my attention.  “I must go now” I say trying to find Skinny.  He looks disappointed and picks up the ball he’d been throwing for the dogs and bowls it miles across the field.  I am pretty annoyed at this tactic to delay me for as he anticipated, Skinny and the beast go chasing after it and I haven’t a hope in hell of calling her back.  He continues to talk to me, telling me about the time he wound up his car window and wondering why it seemed so stiff, realised he had caught the dogs ear in it.  I asked why the dog didn’t squeal or bark, a question he knew was coming.  “Oh well, that was the funny thing” he laughs again, at the memory.  “E don’t bark, I stopped ‘im barking when he was a pup.  ‘E used to of course, but I wasn’t havin none of that, I beat it out of ‘im.”

How I kept my face neutral I really don’t know.  Turning to the dogs, the idiot threw the ball again, “one last time”? he asks, as if I have any choice.  I watch them chase after it and suddenly Skinny is thrown into the air.  She comes down and stands still, completely stunned.  Both dogs had been so focused on the ball that they ran head long into each other and his being such a tank of a thing almost knocked her out.  I rush over to her, though the Man is already ahead of me.  He reaches Skinny and starts trying to examine her hind leg but she, knowing intuitively that he isn’t nice to dogs, won’t let him near.  “It’s not her leg,” I shout, “she head butted your dog, she’s almost knocked herself out!” He of course, who hadn’t actually seen what happened, insists it is her leg that got hurt as she is slightly limping but it’s because of the sharp stubble they’ve been running through.  I give up.  I call her gently towards me, check her over and we walk off home.  

I go and pay for my petrol at the garage this evening and as I turn to leave the shop, something pokes my elbow and I look up into large eyes and horn rimmed glasses.  Is there no escaping this nightmare?!