Edsel and I had kind of an upsetting night last night, and I just inexplicably typed his name "Edseul." He's now phoreign. That's "foreign" with an underbite.
We were on our regularly scheduled walk, and does your dog lose his shit every single day over the walk portion of the evening, even though it's the same goddamn blocks up and down, same stupid Puggle barking at you on the next block, same old lady taking up the sidewalk with her walker, and so on, and has been for the last six years other than one simple year abroad? Just to throw a scenario out there.
That poor old lady. But that's a story for a different day. I once worked with a woman who pronounced it "dimfrent." Also a story for a dimfrent day.
So, we're on our regularly scheduled walk, which is apparently so exciting for one of us that high-pitched whines and ear-splitting barks must be issued forth beforehand, during The Snapping of the Leash part of the event. Once I calm down, we commence the walk.
There's a small park near my house, and if you go in there, you can see several people's fenced-in backyards, including one yard that contains chickens. Not, like, barbecued but rather chickens all formal, in their feathers, struttin' their strudel. Edsel is riveted by the chickens. He doesn't bark at them or try to get them in any way. He stands stock still, not even wagging his incessant tail, and stares at them till I get over it and make him move along, nothing to see here.
We were on the chicken-staring portion of our evening when I noticed the two kids screaming on the playground weren't having fun. And they weren't kids, exactly. I was a ways from them, but they looked maybe teenager-y, or maybe early 20s. I'm so old now that these subtleties are lost on me.
It was a boy and a girl, and they were having an argument. First I just listened in for the sheer joy of hearing someone else's fight. I do have to say that these six months without devastating fights has been, you know, good for my psyche. I used to cry so hard during those fights that the next day my throat would hurt.
The girl was really screaming, and the boy was screaming back. I'd planned to walk past the playground and into the open, grassy part, but it felt weird to walk past that. When I started leaving, I turned around.; something made me look again.
The boy was leaning over the girl, who was on a swing, and he was screaming in her face. She kept trying to get up and he'd block her way. Eventually, she DID get up and he continued to block her so she couldn't leave the scene, and finally he pushed her.
Oh, that DID it. You fucking fuck-ass motherfucker. What I WANTED to do was scream, "HEY!" and old-biddy myself over there, but I was scared of him. He was livid, he was young, and I had Edseul with me, not an intimidating Pit. I feel like Edsel would've wagged at him and handed him his business card. Edsel Pretzel. Heer to luff you. Lu woulda ripped out his throat. And I'd have let her.
I turned to go knock on a neighbor's door, because I didn't have my phone, but someone was driving up the street right then. I waved the guy down–I did! I got out and waved him down, asked him to call the police, which he did, and then we waited for the cops to show up. The couple had moved to a bench and were talking quietly at that point, but I still wanted the police to show up to tell that
FUCKING ASSHOLE MOTHERFUCKER
that he can't do that to a girl. I wanted to take that girl home with me and feed her some Parmesan cheese, seeing as that's all I had. Today's payday.
Once I saw the police roll up, I got out of there. I'd been lurking in a bush anyway, while the guy sat in front of the park with his car. "They're just young kids, but that isn't cool," I'd said to the guy. "No, ma'am, it isn't," he'd said back.
That asshole kid. My instinct is to just go over there and punch him in the head, which I realize doesn't make me any better than him EXCEPT FOR THE PART WHERE I DIDN'T ACT ON IT. Asshole kid.
Maybe I need to get another dog. Like, a giant Rottweiler or a tough German shepherd. So I can whip them out during these situations. Maybe I need a shotgun. Just walk the dog with my shotgun. Hey, it's the South.
Oooo, a sword! Hanging from my belt! That won't look crazy. As opposed to the big-haired woman who stops to look at the chickens every day. When did having chickens become a trend?
All right, I gotta go. I'll let you know if I get up in anyone else's business today.