I’m officially moved into my new home. So naturally I’ve begun to befriend my neighbours.
The other night, as I was walking towards my house, I spied a Jack Russel Terrier. The small dog yipped, it yapped, it howled like it was going to kill me. I continued walking. The tiny canine ran towards me while keeping up it’s oral protestations. Although it stayed a distance from my feet, the dog made it known that it wanted to tear me to shreds. As I hurried up the steps of my home, I glanced over my shoulder and saw that the furry thing was waiting at the bottom of the stairs still growling death wishes at me.
In that moment I realized that I had allowed myself to be chased home by a fifteen pound ball of fur and kibble. I turned on my heel and snarled at the tiny beast. It stepped back. I advanced towards it, still snarling. Unsure, the petite pooch held it’s ground. Undaunted by the terrier’s attempted alpha stance, I commenced my shouting, brawling chase. It was at that second that his owner rounded the corner in time to witness me wild armed chasing down of her dog.
“He doesn’t bite.” She yelled over the calamity.
As far as I could see there were two possible responses to this. Both of them truths. “Yes, but I do.” and “I knew that, I’d have punted the creature already if he did.” Neither of these seemed appropriate, so I turned and hurried inside my house.
I imagine this shall be the beginning of a beautiful friendship; she and I will be best friends forever, sharing our lives over coffee and bundt cake from now on. Or not.