Last week during my mindwalk with a dear friend, I watched a hawk swoop down next to a building at UNT and try to catch up a squirrel. The hawk missed, and he sat in a bush just barely visible near the ground for about five minutes, eyeing other squirrels and/or making plans for the next hunt.
This became a theme for the week. Something would happen near, almost go wrong, but just miss being too bad. And I would say to a friend, “The Hawk is hunting.”
Today on my way home from another mindwalk, one a bit more scattered, I was strolling home down a street next to an old cemetery in Denton: Independent Order of Odd Fellows (IOOF). This is probably the oldest cemetery in the city limits. And certainly has a name to capture the attention.
Anyway… as I was walking down the street thinking about some tasks I needed to do for school, sometimes looking at the gravestones, I saw this little white fuzzy thing jumping down at my feet and heard a small growl. At first I thought I was being attacked by a rabbit or some large albino squirrel. But in fact, it was a small but pudgy Chihuahua, nipping at my heels as at were.
Well, as he was showing me who controlled the area, a large truck came toward us with the stupid dog standing away from me now, growling and “standing his ground.” The driver saw me point at the dog and slowed down to drive around it–because it was not going to move.
I called to see if the dog belonged to anybody who was standing outside at the apartments that face the cemetery (there is a serene view, I’ll tell ya). Finally, I walked toward the apartments so the dog would start nipping at my heels again and get the hell out of the road by following me along to show who is boss. This worked–the dog yapped, yapped, yapped, and followed along.
Some kids came out and responded that the dog was their’s and called little “Diego” to them.
I turned back from the kids who were having issues getting the doggie to behave. I looked at the view, pondering the cemetery for a bit before turning to go homeward. I got down to the very busy street I must cross to get to my own apartment, and it struck me: the little pestering Chihuahua believed–most likely–that he was putting me in my place for being on his street. Moreover, given how he stood his ground with the truck, he also believed he was big enough to make a truck slow down and go around him.
And all of this just synced up with so much of what has been happening to me in the last few days: little Chihuahua’s who act like Great Danes. And me having to let them do this while walking them away from letting something stupid happen to them. All the while pestering, nipping and yapping.
Except, of course, real big dogs do not pester, nip, or yap–they intimidate, bite, and bark. How many times are we in a situation where someone we know thinks she/he is a Great Dane war dog but is really just a nuisance rat catcher? Ugh.
Plenty of times.
I mean, here we are caught between the modern world and death, and so many folks are living like pesky little Chihuahuas that interrupt your day to show you that you have somehow disturbed their turf or disregarded their zones. Amazing. The undiscovered country always on our left side and these lapdogs following along on our right.
So if last week was about “the Hawk is Hunting”, this week portends the “Chihuahua is yapping.”
And I suggest you do what you do with any Chihuahua… ignore it and let it yap. Nobody is listening. Why should you? But if you need to, walk the stubborn little bugger out of the street before it gets hit by someone who really does not give a crap.
CALL ME MAGGIE 