Settle down, puppies. Curl up on the couch where you're not supposed to be, with the toy you've chewed all the stuffing from. Breathe in. Breathe out. Relax.
Once upon a time, there was a manic, exhausted, overcommitted human being named Bryan who, on the day the University would shut down for a while, had a graduate class. This was a man who just returned from six days at a national conference where he had to avoid university responsibilities. He returned them in stereo, and being overwhelmed, he decided he needed a walk.
"Karal," he said. "Let's go" (in which, it also must be pointed out that as he read on this out loud, he now has a dog pushing at his feet that, yes, she's ready to go, even though this is yesterday's story, being written this morning).
"Seriously, poopie-doo. Let's go," Bryan continued.
And they went. They did their usual four mile walk, because Bryan was procrastinating, had mid-life guilt for packing on post-covid weight resulting from numerous injuries, so walking daily was an excuse to move away from the computer for a while.
Which he did. Proudly.
The joy he felt was stupendous, but that is when a pit bull on a leash, without an owner, came running from across the street - Nichols Ave, in fact, busy with much traffic - and had to act quickly, as dogs on leashes are not predictable. Karal, who was adopted and returned 3 times in her first year of life, is definitely not predictable.
Are you girl? Are you? Keep breathing. Close your eyes. Go to sleep. It's all good.
So, Bryan, his dog on a leash, and the other dog, leashed, but without an owner, came to a quick standstill. "I just need you to stay calm, Karal," Bryan said as the dog charged before the crotch-sniffing began. It was a big dog, with even bigger testicles, and his pink tongue hit the concrete where they stood. Karal's hair stood on edge as it typically does whenever another dog comes by.
"God damn it. What the fuck is wrong with you, dog!" a woman's voice yelled from across the street. "I'm going to kill you, you fucking douchebag."
You see, Karal. Your daddy has a love for that word and sees it as a badge of honor. He loves to hear how others use it.
"You douchebag," she continued, as she fell to the ground and put her hands to her face. She started bawling, and Bryan reached to comfort her with one hand, while pulling Karal back from the stray dog wanting to mount her. "I just lost my husband, and I can't take this. I can't take this stupid dog not listening to me and always running away. I'm sending him to the pound."
She was uncontrollable, you see. Keep the eyes closed Karal.
"Well, this is the reality of owning dogs," Bryan said. "They're stupid." He remembered he had a lifetime of canine ownership and they act ridiculously. "I've always wondered how they ever survived on their own," he continued keeping one eye on the mourning woman and another on her dog who took off on her.
Her dog then decided to spring towards the soccer fields near Wooster Middle School.
"Juice," she screamed. "Juice. Come back."
But he took off. A new woman approached with another dog on a leash, and said, "My mother's having a hard time," and handed Bryan this dog's leash while she sprinted after Juice who seemed to want to play soccer. Bryan stood with leashes in both hands and prayed Karal didn't do Karal things (dog things) while he had this stranger's dog. Meanwhile, Juice leaped into a goal-post and tried to tear it down by shaking the net in his mouth. He just wanted to play.
"How old is Juice?" Bryan asked the woman who was still in a fetal position sobbing by his feet. Her daughter's dog began licking her face and Karal, in response, decided it was a great time to sniff doggie butt.
Juice one years old and still having testicles didn't help.
"I get it," Bryan said to the distressed widow. "These creatures are crazy."
He told her about Karal's history and his patience in training her, about Baby, the dog, who loved to gallop away just out of reach when she got out and how her gallop was that of a horse. He told her about Juliet Catherine Alanis Madonna Potatohead Scrappy-Doo Houdini Olivia Dennis, too, and her night of running away only to return days later after he gave up ever seeing her again.
Well, this was good enough, because the mourning woman stood up and decided to grab her daughter's dog and run after Juice at the goal post. Bryan's dog just watched with curiosity.
Yes, Karal, that's you.
Karal was such a good dog that Bryan didn't even recognize her. The two ladies, one with a leashed dog and the other with Juice peeing on goal posts and bushes, ran away every time they got near to him. They eventually disappeared into the wood where he led them.
Bryan said, "Okay. That was a close call. Let's go home," and they started walking only to arrive to three new women screaming at him in Spanish. One of them had a leash in her hand. A fourth woman came out of the home where they stood, and asked in English, "Do you know anyone who owns a husky. This dog just jumped in my mom's car while she was leaving" At that moment, a Giant white husky with a tremendous amount of fur jumped out of the car. Karal's hair stood up once again. This dog was beautiful. The blue eyes sparkled in the morning sunlight.
Yes, Karal. You're beautiful, too. Go to sleep. Go to sleep.
"I'd call animal control," Bryan suggested to the ladies, before they responded, "We tried, but no one answered." At that very moment, an animal patrol van came out of nowhere and pulled up to the Husky and Spanish-speaking ladies.
And Bryan kept walking, guessing that the distressed, frantic, overly dramatic woman who lost her husband must have called Animal Control about her own dog. As the van pulled up and the warden took control of the Husky, Bryan simply thought, "Phew. This could have been us."
And this is where Karal fell asleep, knowing that she's still a pain-in-the-ass and ridiculous example of man's best friend, but at least in this story, it wasn't her being the outrageous, insane subject. She could just rest easy for this one.
She began to snore.
Some stories, Bryan thought, are just too true to be made up.