Utterly Speechless

It takes quite a bit to astound me enough that I have nothing to say. I usually have a quick comeback to anything. Thursday, however, I was rendered speechless twice, for different reasons. First, the negative:

I have worked guide dogs for seventeen years now. I’ve had dogs approach, bark, and even once had one try to mount my guide. In all cases, however, the dog was the only problem. The people, who either should have been or still were attached to the offending animal, always tried to help the situation.

Thursday night, I left work around 4:30 (my normal time). I headed out of the building in high spirits. The kids were with grandma and papa for the weekend, the weatherpredictions promised improvement, and I was finishing a somewhat successful day at work. We reached the bus stop a little ahead of schedule, so I settled in to wait.

Across the street was a lady that I’ve noticed before. She walks her three yappy smallish dogs from time-to-time, and has generally kept them to the other side of the road from us. We get a few interesting folks around my workplace, and her pack is certainly part of the local color.

This day, however, at least one of the dogs decided that barking incessantly and annoyingly from across the street was not enough. So, it proceeds to streak across the road, just in front of an oncoming car.

Now, you have to understand that I didn’t see exactly what happened on the other side of the road. It’s fully possible that the dog slipped its leash, and got away. It’s also possible that the leash was present (it would come into play later) but was currently experiencing a nice break from its duties. Another interesting point is that, though the dog darted toward, then past, certain oblivion, the lady had no real comment until later. In fact, the next thirty-to-forty-five seconds in which I attempted to keep my dog calm in the face of an onrushing bundle of fun provoked no comment from across the street.

Finally, however, the lady realized/decided to acknowledge the fact that her pet was forty feet away, and was being a larger annoyance than usual. Her response? A leisurely walk across the street, and a “Get your butt over here.”

She walked straight up to us, but made no real effort to corral the dog that was now jumping around, and on, my dog. In fact, to make a long story shorter, I will curtail the next three to four minutes into a single sentence: She at no time attempted to leash her dog, but she did ask it “Are you ready to be leashed now?”

Why was I speechless? Why didn’t I ask her if she liked having her dogs be a public nuisance that were currently involved in the commitment of the crime of harassment? Because I was simply astounded that she would react in the way that she was! Admittedly she did tell the dog, once or twice, that it was not to play with a working dog. Strangely, the dog didn’t comprehend this message.

So, finally, my bus arrives. She says, as it drives up, “Here’s your bus, I am sure you’re happy to see it coming.” I could only grunt in response.

And, to finish this story and leave the negativity behind, I’ll close it off by saying that the dog followed us onto the bus, and my dog proceeded to puke all over the floor due to rattled nerves. Be assured that, should I encounter this lady again, my voice will not fail me.

Okay, bad stuff over. I get home, and decide to call over to my parents to see if they are tired of my children yet. (they weren’t.)

I think that I have previously noted here that my son is a late talker. (I’d look it up to be sure, but I’m lazy.) This means that, even at four-and-a-half, he’s still only using a few words, and even those are not always directed. Getting him to communicate with you using words is very difficult.

So, I call my parents, find out that they are having fun, and then ask to talk to my son. My mom has us on speaker phone, and I very distinctly hear my son say, “Hi, Dada!” Not only clear words, but two in a sequence based on the improbable communication medium of the telephone. Not only that, but he said it to me, without prompting.

I was floored. I nearly cried. And I didn’t know what to say. It’s been over four years, but finally I couldn’t say anything, while he said more than enough.