søndag, december 03, 2006

The Pawns of Dogtown

A dog bit me this morning. A Jack Russell Terrier (think Eddie on Frasier or Jack from Tales of the Gold Monkey). He was freaking out outside of the coffee shop, 7:30 a.m., in the grey dawn light. It was 10 degrees. On the weather they said "it feels like -3!", which is, yes, a weird point of pride for us.

It did feel like that, but -3 is not as bad, I think, as a wet 8 or 12 degrees, which hurts. Today's air temp is harsh, certainly capable of making the early morning eyes water, but it isn't painful.

Nor was the dog bite. You could see it about to happen. Whereas friendly dogs wag tails and step toward you, this little bastard sat back, ready to pounce, as I crossed the street in my black stocking hat, unbuttoned (so billowing) winter coat, and black gloves. My face was half-obscured by a scarf.

I look at the dog and pass too close to the giant, empty flower pot he's guarding. He lets loose a furious tirade and lunges, snapping once at my knee through my jeans.

Ah, but he was a cute dog, so it was a cute bite.


Off to Florida this afternoon for a work week. Much revenue to generate.
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