From Journal, May 21, 2006
Yesterday, Cat and I were out on our walk. She was walking alongside me as is the norm these days. We passed where Capitol Grounds used to be and this goddamned German-Shepherd began viciously barking from inside a car as well as frothing at the mouth, baring its teeth like fucking (excuse the language) Cujo.
It absolutely freaked Cat out-freaked me out too: I actually jumped. She totally froze and did the silent scream, mouth a huge square portal of fear.
No owner in sight, nothing but a rabid dog rocking the car. It took about 25 minutes to calm her down. Took me about half the day to come down from the rage that nearly overtook my entire being.
There was nothing I could do. Except to comfort my now hiccupping daughter lying on my shoulder, clinging for dear life.
I think the fact that there was nothing I could do partly fueled the rage I felt at this situation. Comforting my daughter was not enough: I wanted re-tal-i-a-tion. I wanted to rip whoever owned that dog into shreds. Shreds. For terrifying my daughter with that goddamned dog.
I thought briefly of leaving a note on the car saying Thanks so much! Your dog just traumatized my child.
I didn’t because 1. The dog was still rocking the car
2. My rage was blinding.
Just the day before, we encountered another dog and its owner in front of the Tattoo Shop. It was a pleasant experience! A yellow lab and a very nice lady as the owner. Cat actually petted the dog as it calmly stood by. So, at least she saw that dogs can be nice and friendly.
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