Merry Bucktown Dogattackmas
Yup, last Saturday while Jess and I were on our way to lunch a dog tried to take me out. We were in Bucktown, where people tie their dogs up to poles then go into stores to buy things. We’re traveling down the sidewalk coming up on these two dogs tied up together on a bike rack. One is totally cool, nonchalant even but his pal, in hindsight was a clearly agitated collie variation. It’s ears were pinned back and it’s looking me straight in the eye. For a split second the thought to pet this little guy flashed through my mind, but an instant later I rationalized to myself, ‘Don’t do it, you don’t know this dog, plus he looks kinda shifty’. So I focused on my grumbing stomach and the restaurant we were headed to which was a few doors away and simply passed the dogs, giving them a little bit of room. As I passed them within a flash I heard a sharp snarl and without even knowing it I was both sliding my legs back away from the dog and bringing my fist down on top his head. It started and was over in probably less than a second. I was pretty fast but this dog was much faster. I took a few steps back and was sort of in a daze and blind with adrenaline.
Shortly, I started to collect myself and realized the the right leg of my jeans was torn wide open from just under the pocket, in a straight, gaping tear. My mind was a buzz with questions, and I still wasn’t even sure if my leg had holes in it when a man emerged from the store heading for the dogs. Jess was instantly asking him if the dogs are his, and when he acknowledged she started directing his attention at me, who was still checking to see if all my parts were attached, to which he replies “Well, he’s been abused”. He was referring to the dog, not me. With the first words out of the guys mouth you could instantly sense he was completely annoyed with the situation. Next thing I knew his young daughter came out of the store, stopped in the doorway and started flipping out over the fact the dog ripped my jeans. In response the man says to us, ‘Well, why don’t you give me your information so I can send you a check for your jeans or something“, with a kind of sigh. All the while he was fiddling with the leashes, not even looking me in the eye. I told him to forget it.
At that point I just wanted to get going. I had a huge hole in my pants, and second by second getting more agitated by both the guys tone, and the fact that: A) he left a dog that he clearly knew wasn’t properly socialized tied to a pole in the middle of a very busy street, filled with stores in the middle of the busiest shopping season of the year B) he obviously wasn’t going to do anything to correct the dog’s behavior. I told Jess I wanted to go home and started crossing the street. I checked out my leg more when we got to the car and it turned out the dog did get a little bit of me. My skin had a tooth sized black and blue indentation, that was scraped a little bit. Other than that the worst thing to happen to me was the ripped jeans.
We went home, met up with Caca, headed over to Fat Willy’s Rib Shack, and after that meal everything was alllll-right.
« It was better before, before they voted for what’s his name