May. 14th, 2012

sbearbergman: a photo of my head and shoulders, dressed in a navy suit and bright blue shirt, face turned partly away (Default)
I walked our little dog today early, because we started the day early - or at least, early for values of here, all human members wearing pants before 7am. I get it that in other households this constitutes sloth, or nearly, but we are not those people. Despite the dire things people predicted when Mr. Weesauce arrived.

As we went, I could hear the schoolchildren in the playfield behind our house, the one that separates us from their school. Recently, we have had some incursions of their grade 7 and 8 students into our courtyard at lunchtime. The courtyard is gated and private, deadbolted so that you must key in or out, and one of the star selling points of this townhouse for us: a green, sheltered space for the kid and dog we were bringing with us and any others we might someday acquire. It's well-decorated with sidewalk-chalked drawings, full of balls and hula hoops, cozy and peaceful.

So when a pack of twelve-year-olds, whooping and cursing, climb the one gate and bomb through the middle, kicking all the balls as they go, it's no one's favorite thing. Evidently it happened last week on Monday, while my SALM was home and I was out, and he went out and told them a thing or two and then called their school besides. The next day, however, proving that pre-teen boys are not the brightest lights most days, they were back - and this time I was home. I made quite a big bellow-y performance of it, since Mister Wallace's reasonable warning didn't hold, and fussed them at volume and warned them that I'd let the dog out the next time, too.

Never mind that The Dog with whom they were being threatened is a twelve-year-old former Seeing Eye dog, and would no more harm a human than sprout wings and fly. We do not have to tell them everything, do we?

In any event. Somewhat concurrent to this business, a youngster of whom we are quite fond, who attends the same school, has been having some difficulty with bullies. He's smart and kind and long-haired and bookish, and they are giving him a bad time, from what I can tell thirdhand through his older sister. And so I got the big idea to just have a stroll through the playfield, with our dog, and that perhaps we would see our young friend and greet him warmly and stand next to him looking big and interested for a while. Maybe the interlopers would be there, too, and they would see that I did indeed have a full-sized dog who, while not slavering and straining at her choke collar or anything, was definitely a whole dog made of dog. Or something.

This did not work out as I had hoped. All I managed to do was quite accidentally terrify a little knot of hijabi girls sharing secrets when I stepped out of a break in the fence, with the dog, and almost crashed into them gathered up there. ::sigh::

Oh, well. Maybe another day. We got a good walk, at least.


sbearbergman: a photo of my head and shoulders, dressed in a navy suit and bright blue shirt, face turned partly away (Default)
S Bear Bergman

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