A little while ago, I was taking care of my step daughter’s litte dog, Guinness. Guinness is a Jack Russell/Lab mix, twently pounds of exuberant, friendly, bouncing fun. He’s small, and stretched out, like a sleek, black dashshund, with bright eyes and a decidedly big dog bark. He and my little pomeranian/chihuahua, Joey, are good friends. Where Guinness is sturdy and strong, Joey is older, lighter, half Guinness’ weight with a full coat of blond waves and a face that is more than half liquid, expressive chocolate eyes.

One afternoon, I was sitting on the front porch with both dogs. Joey was loose, having been well schooled in the rules of outdoor time. Guinness, being younger, less knowledgeable about road safety and prone to mad dashes for freedom without warning, was on a retractible leash. Both dogs were enjoying the early Spring weather, sniffing all the things and taking turns peeing on the apple tree in the front yard.

The dogs heard my neighbour across the street open his door before I did. A few months ago, a single man with a gorgeous German Shepherd had moved in, and while I’d only had one opportunity to meet his lovely dog, I knew him to be a gentle, friendly giant. Both of my dogs stood alert as the gorgeous fellow (Unfortunately I don’t know his name) loped gracefully down the stairs from the second floor porch to the walkway. Joey barked hello.  Guinness bellowed.

The friendly giant across the street ignored both of my dogs, having more pressing business to attend to. He headed behind the house for some privacy, and I reeled Ginness in for a teaching opportunity.  Guinness was barking and half growling, so I picked him up and placed him on the porch beside me, making him sit down. I had been working on helping him not to react so intensely to other dogs and certain people. I felt instinctively that he wants to engage with the dogs that he meets, but he gets so intense and his bark sounds so big and aggressive that most people aren’t comfortable letting him near their dogs, with good reason.

Joey was sitting on the grass watching his buddy across the street. Joey had been wanting to meet his new neighbour for ages. He barked occasionally, but didn’t leave our property. I had a moment of pride at how well he was obeying, before chaos literally erupted in the form of an innocent woman who came walking around the corner, down our street. She was middle aged, blond, and relaxed looking. For the moment, anyway.

The beauty across the street saw her first, and headed over to say hello. Joey, seeing his new buddy leave his property, decided to follow.  He trotted down the street, barking incessantly, after the German Shepherd.

Guinness lost his ever loving mind.

Before I caught on to what was happening, Guinness had thrown himself off of the porch and hurtled to the end of his leash, barking wildly and making noises that I’m fairly sure shouldn’t be coming out of a dog’s body. The woman, seeing a large German Shepherd trotting towards her followed by a small, excited, yappy dog, froze.

I stood up, and with some difficulty, began to reel Guinness in to me again, while shouting at the woman, “It’s okay! They’re good dogs! No, really, it’s okay!”

She remained unconvinced. I know this because she did the quickest about turn I’ve ever seen and began to speed walk in the other direction. I completely understand, of course. I wouldn’t trust me, either, standing on my front lawn wrestling 20 pounds of muscle and fury, legs flailing, leash tangling…the strangled, wailing howls were enough to unnerve anyone.

I finally got Guinness somewhat contained, and took him to the side porch, opened the door and tossed him in, leash and all. Joey had followed his buddy to the driveway across the street, where they both stood sniffing each other and just genuinely enjoying their new acquaintance. I called to Joey as I headed down my drive, but there was no way he was going to be distracted from his endeavor to make a new friend.

The man who owns the German Shepherd (I don’t know his name either. Yeah. I need to learn to listen better) opened his door and called out apologies to me. I waved as I reached the dogs and assured him that he had nothing to be sorry for. It’s hard to explain social distancing to dogs!

I gave the beauiful big boy a ear scritch and he headed into his house. I ordered Joey home, and he complied, head and tail up, jubilant in his successful endeavor. Guinness was sitting in the porch, waiting, ready to sniff Joey up and down and then to head into the house for the next thing. Which was a snack and a nap.

I, on the other hand, made a cup of tea with shaking hands, willing the adrenaline to settle in my veins.

And somewhere in Baldinville there is a lovely woman who will never walk down Circle Street again.

Until next time, friend.