THE DOGWALKER

I have promised bizarre stories from my past and not delivered. Well, today, is the day for one of them. I always wonder how much of these things to tell... Personally, if the story is good, I want it all. So, here goes. Well, this took place in 2000. Yeah, it was a long time ago. I was living in a 2br condo alone and started having dreams about this puppy. I was convinced I was meant to get said puppy. Anyway, there was this guy I would see walking a greyhound in my complex. Since, I was contemplating getting a dog, I stopped one day to ask him about how the dog thing was working out for him. It was fine, great, wonderful, etc. So, I became determined and eventually found my dream dog in Aiken, SC, at Animal Control. She was six weeks old and precious. You can click here to read about her and/or see pictures.


The problem was that she was only six weeks old and I was working full-time. It turns out that the fellow who owned the greyhound had similar issues. However, he worked second shift at one of the local hospitals in the ER (not as a doctor), so the scheduling could be mutually beneficial in terms of dog walking. We agreed to walk the other person's dog. He took my dog out during the day and I took his out in the evening. It really seemed like a good plan. Of course, I did have to give him a key to my place, but then he had to give me a key to his place. How else could you get to the dog?

This went on for ~ I don't really remember how long ~ and it seemed to work out well. The first indicator that there was a problem was such a small thing, but it really threw me for a loop. I remember it vividly. I was standing in my bathroom washing my face. In my mirror I could see the towel rack (which was beside my shower) behind me. My washcloth was just looped over the bar. It wasn't folded in half and then placed on the bar. It was just spread out flat and hanging there. I NEVER did that. I always folded it in half and then placed it on the rack. Always. I remember walking over to it and staring at it in disbelief. I touched it. It was ever so slightly damp, but I had used it that morning, so that was possible. The thing that I can't remember is if I pulled it off the bar and tossed it into the dirty clothes. In my history rewrite, I pull it off the bar and toss it into the dirty clothes. In reality, I just don't know. I only hope that I was freaked out enough that I did.

I do remember having a conversation with myself while I was standing there staring at the wash cloth that went something like this: "You are being ridiculous. You are the only person who lives here. Do you think a ghost is playing with your wash cloth? I really think a ghost would have better things to do. Obviously, you did it and were so tired that you just don't remember doing it." I also recall being unconvinced by my own arguments. Although, I wasn't overly compelled by the ghost theory either. I was just stymied.


It wasn't long after the "wash cloth incident" that everything unraveled and became clear. At that time, I was fairly new to the Internet and computer stuff in general. I had a desktop that was hooked up to cable, but my navigation skills were poor, at best. I could do email and liked to play cards on yahoo. That pretty much covered my skills. I turned the thing on after I got home from work and a new icon appeared on my screen. I was like, "What is this?" It was a link to some porn site. I know because I clicked on it. And I found out that if I'd had a dial-up connection I would have been charged something like $90.00/minute for access to that site. Since, I didn't have dial-up, that site couldn't be accessed. I hit the freaking ceiling. It took days to peel the blood and hair out of the stucco crap that they use on the ceilings.


I called a friend who knew more about computers than I, and asked how to get that sh*t off of my computer. We went through the add/remove process. She then asked if I knew how to access my Temporary Internet Files. What? What's that? She was dealing with a computer moron. When I got those, I was peeling myself off the ceiling again. That little bastard dog walker had been at my house EVERY DAY looking at porn for two months and I had a listing of every site he'd been to with times to prove it. Meanwhile, my poor baby had to pee and had been stuck in her crate. Suddenly, the computer was the LAST thing on my mind and the washcloth was the FIRST. I hit my bathroom at a RUN. I guess Mr. Pervert Dogwalker wasn't any more computer savvy than I, and couldn't get the computer icon removed, so he knew the jig was up, because....


This time he didn't even try to hide the evidence. He left a wet towel in my dirty clothes and MY wash cloth hanging askew on the towel rack. It only took about three seconds to figure out what he needed my washcloth for and then I hit blastoff. Ewww. I then had another ceiling to pick blood and hair out of for the next few days. Meanwhile, my mind rocketed into overdrive. What else has that pervy little bastard been doing in here? Oh yeah, I washed everything that might have appealed to him with bleach. That, of course, was after my uncle and I went to Lowe's and bought a new lock for my front door. You know, I think I still walked his dog that night. Not the dog's fault that his owner was a big ole perv, but I left a note on his door that I no longer needed his dog walking services and returned his key. I didn't ask for mine back.

Mr. Pervert ended up getting rid of the greyhound. There was a peeping tom incident in the complex not too long after that and the guy just disappeared "into nowhere." I told my next door neighbor that I would bet money that it was Mr. Pervert and he "disappeared" into his backdoor when he was spotted and being chased. Did I mention the part that they lost the peeper right around the area of Mr. Pervert's backporch? It was never proven that he was the peeper, but it didn't happen again. About three months after Mr. Pervert got rid of the greyhound, I was out walking Shelby, and I see him out walking a puppy. Oh great. Mr. Pervert's got a new dog. He moves in for conversation with me. It goes something like this:

Him: I got a new dog.

Me: I see that. (It looks a lot like my dog, only it's brown and white, but it's a border collie mix.)

Him: She's very well behaved.

Me: That's nice. (Realizing I am being mean to a dog and it isn't the dog's fault, I decide to try and be nicer.) She's cute. What did you name her?

Him: Shelby.

Me: (I would be on the ceiling, but we are outdoors, so there is no ceiling. I just really want to punch this guy.) Really? Shelby? (I realize I am speaking through gritted teeth.)

Him: I couldn't think of anything else.

Me: Well, we've got to go. (You have a very limited imagination and I would like to help you out by knocking your brain around some for you. So I better leave.)

For the record, I have never actually hit anyone. And there are very few people that I have wanted to knock out. Mr. Pervert is on a very short list.

SOME KIBBLE & BITS OF WISDOM

People can learn a lot from dogs. For one thing, dogs live in the present. No exceptions. They aren't planners. They don't dwell on their past mistakes. It's all moment to moment for them. Dogs are also very determined to get what they want IF they want it badly enough. For instance, I was just brushing my dog, Shelby, which always requires a muzzle since it is not her favorite thing. I chose to do this while my mom was cleaning up the kitchen after dinner. My mother dropped a piece of broccoli on the floor. We have three dogs in our house. Delilah probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway. She tends to roll things around on her tongue and spits out whatever she doesn't like. Molly would eat it, but she isn't willing to fight for it. Shelby ran from the living room with her muzzle still on to get that broccoli. One of my greatest fears is that someone will be working with plastic, or something worse, in the kitchen and drop it, and Shelby will swallow it before she realizes it isn't actually food. Now, Molly could have taken Shelby with a muzzle, but she still sat and watched. My mom couldn't stop laughing. Shelby ate the broccoli with the muzzle on. It wasn't an easy task, but she broke it down until it fit through. As I said, she was determined.

About ten years ago, after my mom and stepdad adopted Molly they decided to get another dog to keep her company. One of the dogs they hoped might be a good fit, but wasn't, was named Lady. I believe she was a collie mix. However, I could be wrong about that; my memory is lacking in some ways. Lady taught my parents that dogs can be a lot like teenagers. For instance, if you take a really good kid and throw him in with a bunch of delinquents, in no time flat your really good kid has become a delinquent, rather than your really good kid turning the delinquents into a bunch of really good kids. It was kind of like that with Molly and Lady. Molly was housebroken; Lady was not. After a week with Lady both dogs were peeing and pooping in the house. It smelled a lot like Grand Central Station; for those of you who haven't been there, that isn't a good thing.

My mom is a big believer in praise and understands that punishment after the fact is useless because dogs live in the moment and don't understand what they are being punished for unless you catch them, literally, in the act. So she spent a lot of time outside with both dogs, hoping to catch Lady doing her business so that she could lavish her with praise. Her time was rewarded when Lady produced a huge pile of #2. All the while my mom is praising her like crazy, "What a good dog, Lady. What a good girl." Molly is very jealous of any other dog receiving any praise for any reason. She immediately bolts across the yard at 100mph to horn in on this action and steal Lady's thunder; her right front paw lands squarely in Lady's "business." Mom says that Molly picked up her right front paw, stared at it with something akin to horror or, perhaps, disbelief. It was like her own foot was something foreign and she desperately hoped it didn't belong to her. She tried wiping it on the grass and then took off like a dog possessed, vigorously shaking her right front paw.

People can learn a lot from dogs. Learn to pick your battles. When it's important, keep fighting even when the odds are against you. Don't eat something just because it's there. Keep up with your kids and pay attention to who their friends are. Hygiene is important. Interpersonal battles are won with praise not punishment. Jealousy will take you to places you will regret later. Be more careful with your crap because you don't want to spend all your time cleaning up your shoes. People can learn a lot from dogs.