Every now and again, you come across someone, who really feels they are superior in every way. Of course, we all know not to pander to them, and not to try and reason with unreasonable people, they have a knack of twisting things, making little digs. They can provoke you into acting like a nutter, when in actual fact you are under normal circumstances a nice and sane person to be around.
Well I just came across this blog, it had me in stiches. Of course it is about a dog, but aren't there times when you too have just felt like saying Madame, Be Quiet (or a few choice words but to that effect) !
Well I just came across this blog, it had me in stiches. Of course it is about a dog, but aren't there times when you too have just felt like saying Madame, Be Quiet (or a few choice words but to that effect) !
MADAME, BE QUIET!: Adventures in Dog Walking
I figure if I keep waiting to blog about the last day of my trip to England
(which ended, HELLO, 3 months ago), I’ll never blog again. So I’m just going to
skip that one entry. I’ll just have to forgive myself, hope you do too and get
on with things.
So anyway, Joe and I were walking Dobby last night. We usually do one of two
paths, known to us as “the short one” and “the long one” because, well, you can
figure that one out for yourself. We decided on “the short one” because we had
gotten home from rehearsal not long before and we were tired. Dobby doesn’t
care…as long as she gets to go outside with her pack, she’s happy. Anyway, the
short path essentially takes us around our block, which is officially labeled as
a circle, although it really only is more of a squared-off right
parenthesis.
As we walked on “the short one,” we suddenly heard a bunch of high-pitched yelping and saw the shadows of 2
local “little dogs” across the street but trying to run towards us. They might
be Pomeranians but I’m not sure because I never actually see those dogs
outside…I only hear them barking like crazy whenever Dobby and I go past their
house on daytime walks and I always get this feeling of superiority because MY
dog doesn’t bark like that anytime someone goes past OUR house (the fact that
our LAST dog, Pippi, would bark her fool head off if a leaf fell off a tree 2
counties over, never mind to announce that someone dared to go past her house,
is conveniently lost to time). The owner of the Poms-or-whatevers, asked her two
dogs, “WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU BARKING AT?”, in a voice that was something of
a cross between a southern belle and a fishmonger. Seeing that Joe, Dobby and I
the source of their loud excitement, she then said to us “THEY’RE ON LEASHES!”
It was at that time that I saw a black Labrador Retriever lumbering up to us.
Unleashed.
Crap.
Now, I know most of the dogs on our two paths. I know which ones who will
always be indoors and which will one be outdoors. I know who will be friendly
and who might try to eat Dobby for a meal. I know the barkers and the kissers
and yes, the one biter who drew blood on my shin once (that’s how I found out
she was a biter). I also know the ones on leashes and the ones with
irresponsible “parents” who don’t leash their dogs, which is against the law
here but they apparently don’t give a crap about the laws or poor unsuspecting
children or people who are afraid of dogs, or owners of small dogs who want to
make sure that their animals remain safe. But I didn’t know this Black Lab and
he was coming right towards us, so I picked up Dobby and stood there. I didn’t
know what I was going to do if the Lab attacked us or anything but I also knew I
wasn’t going to run because all (s)he’d do is chase us. So I just stood there.
And the southern fishmonger is yelling at us, “I SAYED THEY ARE ON LEASHES. GO
AHAYED AND WALK SO MAHN WILL STOP BARKIN’.” Sorry lady, but I wasn’t going
anywhere until I knew what the Lab’s plans were.
It eventually became evident that the Lab seemed to have little interest in
us, or at least in attacking, so Joe suggested we keep walking. I kept Dobby in
my arms (just to make sure. By this point she was alternatively whining and play
growling…all she wanted was to be let down and say HI to the 3 other dogs. Fat
chance, kiddo.) and we continued on “the short one,” the Lab following us and
staying about 10 feet behind. Meanwhile, the southern fishmonger’s neighbor came
outside in her robe and, since the two little dogs were still barking nonstop,
asked what all the noise was about. And the Poms’ owner said, “They’re walkin’
their little bitty dawg and they saw ma two so they picked him up an’ jest stood
there. Ah told them they’re on leashes but they must be afrayed that mah little
dogs ahre gonna eat theirs or sumpthin’.” This was all within earshot so I shot
back, “It has nothing to do with your dogs on leashes. But there’s a big black
Lab over there who is not on a leash and who I don’t know and I have a little
dog so I was being careful.”
And suddenly the southern fishmonger yells, “MADAME, BE QUIET!”
Well, let me tell you that I was livid. Absolutely LIVID! I mean, how DARE
she? SO rude! My usually-suppressed “Native New Yorker” quickly came up to the
surface and it was all I could do to not scream back “Fuck you!” but I kept my
composure and only said it under my breath.
We kept walking, the Lab went into its house (apparently he belonged to the
next-door neighbor who wanted to know what all of the commotion was) so I put
Dobby back on the ground and as I calmed down, Joe and I processed the whole
situation as we continued on the walk. She should have her little dogs trained
better, maybe I shouldn’t be so over protective, etc. I started making fun of
the lady as a way to let off some of the steam, mocking her “Madame, be quiet!”
By this point Joe and I were giggling about the whole thing.
We finally got back to the house and a few minutes later, still not quite
ready to let it go, I once again mockingly said, “‘Madame, be quiet!’ I still
can’t believe she said that to me!” Joe, who had been working at his computer,
turned to me and said, “You DO realize that she was talking to her dog when she
said that, right?” I looked at him blankly. Huh? “She was looking at her dog
when she said it. The dog’s name is Madame. The dogs were still barking and she
was telling her dog, named Madame, to be quiet.”
Really? You’re sure? Oh.
Oops.
Good thing I didn’t tell her “Fuck you.”