Being a Big Dog in a Big City, Addy gets a wide variety of reactions when we are out and about. It’s usually fear. Mostly people try to disguise it, usually pretending there is a reason to suddenly cross the street. However, sometimes, it’s blatantly obvious.
Several years ago I worked for a shall-not-to-be-named coffee company. During this time, I was usually up and walking Addy at 2am. This, of course, was just in time to run into everyone in the neighborhood who caught the 1:30am ferry. Most were just getting home after a long day’s work. Others were not-so-quietly coming home from a great night out.
It was while we were walking behind a group of people in the latter category that one of the women in the group–who apparently had a GREAT night out–glanced back at us. When she saw Addy she let forth a blood-curdling scream and promptly fell over, off the sidewalk and into the street [don’t worry, there wasn’t any traffic].
My first inclination is to offer assistance, as her friends were too busy laughing to help, but of course, I quickly realized Addy was the problem. Addy, naturally, wanted to help her new friend, who was screaming loudly:
I’m down, I’m down! Oh sweet Jeeeeesus, I’m ready to come home. I’m ready sweet Jesus.
Ma’am are okay? Can I help you up?
I’m ready to go home, Sweet Jesus just take me now and don’t make it too painful!
MA’AM [more laughter from behind me] DO YOU NEED HELP GETTING UP? [I wasn’t yelling, per se, merely speaking very clearly and very loudly because at this point I could smell the alcohol coming off her body.]
She stopped her rant mid-Jesus-take-me-home rant and looked at me, slightly confused.
You mean he ain’t gonna eat me?
No, ma’am, she’s not.
Oh, well, then I’m good.
She then popped up and kept right on trucking, uh, wobbling