Yesterday was kind of a fun day, till it wasn’t.
I did all sorts of things on my vacation-at-home list that I’ve been meaning to get to and never do. For example, I called the dry cleaner: Did I have stuff there?
Yes, ma’am, you’ve had clothes here for a year. I changed my phone number in March, so they couldn’t even REACH me. Nice. So I was getting all that kind of stuff done,
with plans to go to work to see the eclipse, because work invited us all to watch it from the loading dock, and they were giving us glasses and everything.
And speaking of changing my phone number (fruitlessly), Ned called. To tell you the truth, I haven’t talked to him lately. “You want to come see the eclipse at my work?” Ned asked. He works kind of far out. Not that his work is far out, man. But it’s field-ish. Also, the whole time I’ve been knowing Ned, I’ve heard about his coworkers and have only ever met one of them. So I said okay to the man (™ When Harry Met Sally).
As soon as I got there, it clouded up. This sums up my life.
But, oh my god. I’d only ever been to work with Ned after hours, and I got to see him be the fancy president, and I got to finally put a face to all those names. Literally. I brought faces. Put them on people’s name tags.
Also, Ned’s office. He became president of his company the very day I moved out, and isn’t just that the way of my people. Oh, you’re gonna start to make scads of money? Goodbye!
Ned moved offices when that happened, so I’d never been to his tidy, full-of-personal-effects new office before this. I ate his Whole Foods, 287% cacao, extra kale dark chocolate and looked around.
I was particularly enamored of his medicine collection. “Were you stuffed up?” I asked him, fondling his Sudafed. “At one point, yes,” said Ned, never looking up from his fancy email he was composing. “Dear Penthouse Forum, I never thought it would happen to me…”
And anyway, right then I knew, because I know how Ned is. That Sudafed had been there, open, since December. I put the exposed tablets back in the box, at least.
“Say, those are some bananas,” I mentioned, and still-emailing Ned said, “Are you eating my Whole Foods chocolate?”
“Noh,” I said, around the chocolate.
“Heyyyy,” I said, gathering intel. “Where’s your Bye Bye, Pie coffee cup?” I gave that to Ned years ago, and he always drank his work coffee out of it.
“Oh, I threw that away,” he said, looking sheepish. “And I didn’t just throw it away, I THREW it in the trash as HARD as I could.”
“Here at work? Where you’re…the president?”
“When we weren’t speaking.”
“The big time.”
He means December through February of this past year. We didn’t see each other (or speak) for 55 days. You know, this reminds me, I really need to make Book of June coffee mugs. What should the slogan be?
My torrid stupid relationship with Ned notwithstanding, I kept going to the window to see if miraculously the sun was coming out, and finally I got bored with Ned’s constant work during the workday, so I went outside, and ENJOYED THE DAMN RAIN.
But do you know what happened? Do you? Right when the eclipse was at its peak, the clouds parted, and all Ned’s coworkers and I saw the eclipse! We saw it! Everyone was annoyed with me because I had a bottle of water, my phone, the eclipse glasses, and also 10 baby kittens, and I kept asking people to hold stuff.
“Will you just put the water DOWN?” asked Ned. “Really,” said one of his coworkers.
No one likes me.
Anyway, water on the ground to absorb poison, I took this amazing shot of the eclipse, while I had eclipse glasses on and could not see what I was doing. I think you’ll agree I should call Newsweek to see if they’ll print it.
You know what I shoulda done? Is on (Face)Book of June, have everyone put up their eclipse photos from all across this land of ours. This land is your land. This land is my land. This land is Knott’s Landing. This Michael Landon. Welcome to my head.
Anyway, so I got to see the eclipse, and it was very exciting, and every once in awhile I’d see old Ned looking at me like I hung the eclipsed moon, so I thought I’d better take my leave and figure out how many points are in pretentious Whole Foods chocolates.
My afternoon consisted of getting stuff done on my big list, including my freelance work, and finally it was time to walk Edsel, and that is when the terrible, awful thing happened. ONE YEAR TO THE DAY of The Lottie Incident.
Our walk was great, at first. It was nice out, and we saw a cute little girl with June Hair in the park. She was on the slides with a man who had a pit mix up there with them. She shouted hello to us as we walked by. “This is just my neighbor,” she screeched, and the neighbor
THE HOT HOTTIE HOT HOT neighbor,
threw his head back and laughed.
“Hello, neighbor!” I said, trying to look cute. Sadly, this was one of those playgrounds without a way-back machine, so I failed.
We’d just left the park and took a back street toward home, and I keep thinking now, if we’d just taken a different street, or left a little later. But we didn’t.
A man, his wife, their baby in a stroller and their ancient white-faced Tallulah-looking dog were headed toward us. The dog was loping along beside them.
Edsel got his usual pull at the leash, whine, insane thing he does when a dog approaches, so I placed us behind a car, which is what our trainer said to do last year when I had Lottle.
I’m getting anxious just writing this.
They were walking past us on the other side of the car, and Edsel was straining to see,
and he got out of his collar.
I have no idea how he did, as his collar is on securely, but he may have been pulling so hard that there was a gap.
I felt him escape and yelled, OH NO as he headed as fast as he could for that poor dog, growling.
“No!” I yelled. I am shaking writing this. Goddammit. Edsel had that dog by the throat, that poor old dog, who of course fought back. I started running over, screaming, I AM SO SORRY to that family. The mom moved her stroller way far away, can you blame her, and the dad–this was amazing–got Edsel by the head. Just grabbed his head, having dropped his own dog.
I literally saw saliva drip from Edsel’s fang. I saw it. If that guy’s dog hadn’t been docile and old, he could have been attacked, being in the middle of that dogfight.
“I am so sorry,” I said a hundred times. “He got out of his collar!’ I was shaking as I slipped it back on his stupid-ass dog head, and Eds went with me quietly.
“Is your dog okay?” I asked the man. Neither person had said a THING to me. They hate me. Clearly.
“I can’t tell,” the guy said. “I don’t see blood.”
In all, Edsel had 10 or 15 seconds to bite that dog. He probably didn’t do any real damage. But I told the couple my address and told them to come over should they need to go to the vet.
I never want to walk Edsel again. I am so shaken up by this. They must have been terrified for their baby, not to mention their ancient dog. Every time I woke up last night I thought of it again.
Now I have a headache, so I will sign off.