Baby!

The other day I was doing a little tai chi in the living room. Ozma was sleeping on the couch. A woman walked by, and I thought she looked familiar. I checked…yep.

"Oz! What are you doing sleeping? Get your leash! Baby's outside!"

Oz leapt up, not fully awake, and looked out the window. She started whining. I jammed my shoes on, grabbed the leash, and we were out the door!

"BABY!" I called.
Baby stopped ambling forward and leapt back towards us, scaring the crap out of her owner. Oz and I ran forward (about two yards) and then Baby and Oz were rolling around in a big happy dogball, licking and rubbing and fake growling. The only time they stopped was when Baby would roll against me, or when either dog would jump over to lick my chin. Baby is a boarder collie who moved into the neighborhood a few months ago and started causing havoc. Her humans would let her stay outside running free all day, and, well, she's a boarder collie. She has endless energy. She'd dig holes in yards, chase other dogs, chase cars—seriously. She was a royal pain as far as responsible living, but also a blast. She's like a rubber ball. She'd bounce around, and she and Oz would play like crazy. Eventually, too many people complained, and they've kept her inside, and, apparently, bought a leash. These people have repeatedly shown themselves not to be fully in tune with the demands of being owned by a dog. For example, when I told them I'd heard that Baby had been hit by a car, and asked if she was okay, the woman responded, "Oh, did she get hit?"

Yeah.

Today was a smaller scale version of this disconnect. The dogs are dogrolling, happy as puppies in a pile, and she says, "I'm sorry. My dog just goes crazy sometimes."Sorry? I woke my dog from a nap and ran after you to play with your dog, and you're apologizing?

All I could say was, "Um, my dog loves your dog. That's why we ran after you. Right, Baby? Right, Oz?"Lick lick lick.

Greg