It seems I cannot quite pin down a blog post these days. I would love to place blame a lack of time but that would not be fully accurate as G is sleeping much better at night and beginning to take better naps. The truth is I am not sure what to say anymore. I had never given much thought in the past about what the few people reading would think of what I wrote. Take it or leave it, I didn't care.
But now there is G. And he is wonderful, but when I sit to write a blog about him it seems trite.
Of course I love him, does it need saying? He is the most perfect thing I have done with my life. However, a love sonnet to his elongating naps isn't in tempo with some of my former snarky posting.
So I shall attempt to foray back into myself and not worry what you may think of me if my blog isn't solely something about my precious boy. (who, by the way, is sweetly napping on me right now as we fly to Colorado)
I have had the misfortune of encountering one of life's rule-less people this week while in Baton Rouge. You know the type, the ones who are above the laws and common decencies the rest of civilization abides by. Oh yeah, THAT guy.
This particular fellow was encountered multiple times on G and my morning walks around my Aunt's suburban neighborhood.
(And while I tell you about him please remember I am the proud mama of two fur baby dogs also.)
He is preceded by two loping black dogs who weave in and out of each lawn, stopping to mark a bush or chase a squirrel before heading into the road and down the street. He is middle aged and balding, he carries a metal poop scooper and about 50 extra pounds. His dogs bound up to my stroller, anxious to stick their wet noses into my son's outstretched hands, rewarding his trust with germy French kisses. I steer my child away and give him a glance that I believe fully conveyed his need to get his dogs out of G's face.
We walk on.
Back home my Aunt mentions passing the same fellow often when she walks her dogs. She expressed her frustration with trying to control her two year old ADHD German Shepard as two unleashed dogs taunt him and follow along. She said that she finally decided to say something, sweetly telling the man, "You really should have them on a leash". How did he respond, you may wonder. He stared straight at her and then turned and walked away.
Yeah, THAT guy...
Upon encountering him again the next day I decided to reinforce my Aunt's message. Since he had never seen us together I didn't worry about him connecting us. As his slobbering canine's once more made there way towards my stroller I crossed the street to try to avoid them and light heartedly called out, "They really should be on leashes".
To which he answered (in a voice to rival the best "I couldn't care less" of my teenage years)
Seriously dude? Are you 12? Is this for real?
Less patient now, "well it is the law".
Getting downright pissy he responds, "I think you should read the whole law before pretending to know what you are talking about".
Wow. Yeah, THAT guy!
I walked on, stunned by a grown mans rudeness and complete inability to admit he may in fact be in the wrong. His refusal to accept that he is breaking the law and perhaps should at least try to be civilized to those around him who are abiding by that law.
And so my readers I give you the WHOLE law.
"In Baton Rouge, your dog must be physically controlled at all times. This means that the dog must be on a leash held in your hand, in a fenced yard with the gate closed, in a kennel, on a chain, or in your house. Besides being the law, this ordinance is a common sense practice to avoid injury, illness, or loss of your dog."
The moral of the story here folks?
Please, don't be THAT guy!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
2 weeks ago