Saturday, February 05, 2005
I love German hunting dogs
I was walking home from the Boy's this morning, in something of a bitter rage about cheerleading (about not being able to do stuff and not having a lot of options for learning how: the usual shit), when I heard the unmistakable sound of a dog's leash coming up right behind me.
I slowed down enough so that a pretty red-haired woman walking a tiny little brown dachshund could pass me. I started watching her little dog, and I couldn't help but smile at how very strange and amusing he was. He had a very long and skinny body with a little bit of a tummy underneath, not unlike my cat Oliver's little pudge, and when they passed me he turned his long brown head around and looked directly at me, with little black eyes that were somehow both cartoonish and startlingly humanoid. I have never owned a dog, and I don't really know how most people react to them, but since he was too small to pat on the head, I waved at him instead, the way adults wave at small children in strollers. His little eyes looked back at me with a sort of acknowledging gaze.
The most extraordinary thing about this dog was the way he walked. It wasn't a large dog's prance, but rather a sort of waddling trot. It was particularly amusing to see him jump curbs, which he did with a kind of sideways hop like a rabbit, and to see him break into a bit of a run when the woman hurried up to cross the street. He looked like a chubby little horse trying to trot but ending up with something closer to a penguin's waddle. He also did a funny little hop to get across the gaps in the cement of a fountain in the park we walked through. The really odd thing was that each time he would do something hilarious like that, I would chuckle quietly, and he would turn his whole head around and stare at me with a sort of "what are you laughing at?" kind of expression. He wasn't so much a beautiful little dog as he was a highly entertaining one, and because he was such a caricature of himself it made him strangely loveable to me.
Finally, when we all got to a crosswalk and had to wait for the light to change, I turned to the woman and asked:
"What's your dog's name?"
She replied "Wally."
I couldn't help but smile again at what a perfect name that was for him, and I told her:
"He's a delightful little creature." I really meant it, too.
She replied: "He's fun, isn't he?"
I agreed.
They continued on their walk and I went down the hill to my building, still smiling to myself about Wally. Then I realised something extraordinary: my bitterness was gone. The little dog had completely and utterly distracted me, to the point where I had been consumed with glee and amusement instead of melancholy.
If I thought he would understand, I would track Wally down and thank him. Maybe what I really need is a little brown German hunting dog with droopy ears and very short legs.
Fortunately I am quite easily amused.
-N
