Saturday, April 04, 2009

Dog Terrorism

Dan and I were returning from yet another Rangers loss at the Garden, about five minutes ago, when we found ourselves passing Sabur in Teele Sqaure. One of those freaky joggers who always runs with their shorter-limbed dogs approached us rapidly. The jogger was male, 40ish, and about four foot eight. The dog approximated Spuds, of Bud Light fame, and was considerably shorter than his human companion.

I love dogs, and as the duo passed us on the sidewalk, the dog panting heavily, I swooped playfully torward toward the panting pup. The dog lunged and barked at me as she passed. Dan and I laughed, not having wanted to cause the dog any anxiety. Then we heard a human ranting angrily at us from behind.

"Did you just terrorize my dog?! You think that's funny?! I saw you laugh! You terrorized my dog!"

I turned around and witnessed the four-foot-tall man, paused in the sidewalk on the other side of the Sabur parking lot. His dog stood there and didn't care, panting at the sidewalk during an unexpected break in her run. I asked the guy if he had a problem.

Suddenly, the jogger grabbed the leash and ran toward Dan and me rapidly, covering a distance of about forty feet and stopping almost in my face. The poor dog came along for the ride, her leash in the short man's hand.

"I saw you lunge at my dog!" said the pyscho. "You threatened her! You think that's funny? You think that's funny?!"

"You need to get away from me," I said. Dan lay low and silent, waiting to be provoked. Native New Yorkers know how to win in court.

The dog-creep stepped even closer to me. "You threatened my helpless dog! You think that's funny?! You think that's funny?! Let me tell you something--"

"You need to step back," I said. The guy kept fighting, his adrenaline all up from his jog. I stepped back, and so did he. But he continued to make threatening hand gestures, seemingly suggesting that he would sic the hapless dog on me if I continue to mouth off.

"I think you're a creep," I said, staring the guy in his soulless blue eyes, "threatening me with your dog. Chasing me down with your dog on a leash." I leaned on a parking meter like I didn't care, continuing to stare down the jogger.

The guy froze for a second, then lunged at me once again, stopping mere inches from my face.


"You are a fucking creep," I said, not raising my voice at all. "And you need to get away from me. You need to stop following me now."

"Was I supposed to just leave her there?" the creep said, tugging at the leash. I felt sorry for the dog. "You terrorized her! And you seemed to share a laugh afterwards," he said, looking at Dan, as if we had planned an attack on his pretty dog.

"You need to stop following us NOW," I said, as he pursued us uphill. The pyscho stood there in his jogging attire, leash in hand. I half-hoped that he would lunge at me again so I would have full legal authority to kick the living shit out of him.

But the psycho just jogged off toward Davis, with the dog in tow, and Dan and I returned to my apartment. I hope I don't run into this guy anytime soon.

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