Song: “Son of a Bush”
An email from my friend Erin:
dear pam –
next time you fly southwest, please don’t wear your “offensive” shirt (especially when it has political overtones).
the “new” america
Holy shit, that pisses me off.
I was listening to “Son of a Bush” this morning on my run, right when I rounded a familiar corner. On this turn there’s a metal gate and a large dog who waits for me, and then throws himself against the fence, barking and freaking out. I always know he’s going to do it, and every single time it scares the crap out of me, because he’s got the most uncannily unpredictable timing. Right when I think he’s not home, that’s when he springs. It is the highlight of his day, I’m sure. He also sets off the enormous dogs next door, who fling themselves against the fence, flipping their bodies around in agony that they cannot quite reach the flesh on my face for a feast.
So, every day I round the corner with tension rising. I prep myself. I turn the music up. I know it’s coming.
But today it was “Son of a Bush” blasting in my head as I rounded the corner. I’d been listening to a playlist I’d made for a co-worker called “Hip-Hop Is Your Friend,” and it’s become a good motivator for mornings when I do not want to drag myself out of bed. Anyway, Chuck D’s doing his thing and I’m almost home and I’m pissed off that I had to get up and run and I round the corner and the black dog leaps and I turn and stare right into his eyes.
I swear to you, the dog just stopped. He just stood there and lowered his head a little, and shut the fuck up.
Check that out. I was alpha dog. The dogs next door never even knew I was there.
This does not mean I’m now suddenly cured of my fear of other people’s dogs. They’re still erratic, emotional, big-as-my-torso creatures with a desire to eat my face. But this one? I put this one in his place.
Now if you’ll excuse me. If I don’t head into the office, I’m going to be wearing 911’s late crown.