Three Girls and a Yappy Dog

It was a sunny day and 55° F – about 10° above the average high for central Virginia in January, so I grabbed the opportunity to walk around the ‘hood, on the theory that exercise is good for body and soul, or so Bernie Horowitz says. (Yes, the Bernie Horowitz of Far Side fame. He’s always telling me something and sometimes he’s even right.) Halfway through my walk I turned a corner and encountered three girls sitting on a curb. They had with them a yappy dog on a leash … one of those little dogs that growls and barks like he’s going to eat you but is so tiny that his posturing is just comical. True to his nature he bounded toward me, barking and growling like a good yappy dog should. He couldn’t help himself.

The girls were in their own world – much too busy talking to each other to take notice of me. I asked them what kind of dog they had with them (“It doesn’t look exactly like a Chihuahua – is it a Chihuahua?” ). I thought it might be a Chihuahua mix. One girl replied, “I only walk it, I don’t know what it is.” The other two girls said nothing but appeared as baffled by my question as the girl who spoke. I could almost hear squeaky wheels turning lethargically in their heads. Why are you asking such a hard question?

Possibly, I’m being unkind now by having a too-high expectation. Maybe three girls walking a Chihuahua shouldn’t be expected to know they’re walking a Chihuahua. I sat down and snapped a photo of the dog, and snapped a photo of the girls, and then I went on my way.

As I stood to leave I said, “This is going on my blog.”

Nothing.

“Well, be good,” I said and resumed my walk.

I thought I heard a few giggles, but I’m pretty sure they weren’t giggling at me. They were still in their own world with rainbows and unicorns and teenage boys to talk about.