Area woman appears irritated after unplanned boob-surfing episode, witnesses say
It could have been worse, and soon will be unless I make the smart choice and start living out of my car
Yesterday morning, as I was finishing a stroll with Rosie, an unidentified local woman of around forty was walking two dogs and approaching the same corner from the opposite direction. Both dogs were large; one easily weighed somewhere between 90 and 1,200 pounds, while I would swear on my life that the other was in the range of 70 to 500 pounds. The woman holding their leashes might have weighed 150 to 160 pounds.
When one of these dogs spotted Rosie, both appeared to decide as one fuck-faced team to make a run at us. The woman’s expression in the moment before they committed seemed to indicate that she was aware of the possibility of recreational aggression, but it didn’t matter; the canine pair easily pulled her forward into an awkward trot-stumble. She didn't think to dig in her heels and just toppled forward as a result, like a statue of a Confederate Army general being felled by Wokish canines.
Luckily for this woman, her dogs, being as fond of tangents as all canines. cut cross the grass on the lawn occupying the corner inside the sidewalk, so she didn't hit anything hard. But they pulled her right across the grass with her arms fully extended like she was a child hanging onto a dump truck’s bumper, almost smacking her left shoulder into a fire hydrant along her unplanned and somewhat violent journey of fifteen or so feet.
The approximate path of the dogs and their woman is indicated by the yellow arrow in the doctored but useful photo of the intersection below.
Rosie did not move as this was happening, but braced herself. I did the same. The woman had her neck extended and was trying to look forward, and it would be viciously understating my impressions.to say that she looked both mentally challenged and aghast. I had a moment to consider how painful it has to be for anyone with substantial breasts to ride those puppies across a rough lawn or even a well-moistened Slip N Slide on a planar surface.
The woman’s fingers lost their grip on the leash of the larger dog just as the whole three-headed assembly ground to a halt now that two of those heads had come within a foot or two of Rosie’s. She lay there flapping, arms and legs akimbo, as if trying to make a snow angel the hard, upside-down way and in the absence of the required artistic substrate. The bigger dog started snapping at Rosie while the other one started yapping, but neither the snapping nor the yapping seemed serious, just dickishly over-assertive. I managed to stop these microaggressions with a single cry of "God dammit,” which was more an outburst of generalized irritation than a strategically situated expletive. I was, however, prepared to beat the shit out of all three strangers if things took an ugly turn.
The dogs both took a step back as the woman regained her feet and tried regaining full control of the leashes, if not the animals at the ends of them. I had already started leading Rosie across the street. The woman looked unharmed; moreover, she wore the characteristic sheepish-but-angry expression that implies that questions such as “Are you okay?” are more likely to worsen any shame or embarrassment than assuage it. Rosie and I then made the short journey back home without another glance back.
I felt a little bad in the aftermath even though it wasn’t my fault and the woman obviously did not have control of her dogs, or whoever’s dogs they are. She should have been walking them one at a time or at least trained herself in the art of tug-of-war and the strategic redistribution of external forces in the face of limited body mass.
No one was hurt, and this could have happened to anyone; hell, the woman almost deserves a medal for not having a phone in either hand as her day was taking an unexpected turn for the shitty. But these episodes have become continual, practically continuous, and I would be well-served to relocate to a lower-density area. I can't conduct the vital outdoor portion of my existence entirely between 11 p.m. and 4 a.m.