Of Dogs and Dinguses

I ended this week with no real way to make my 30-mile goal and nursing a few aches and pains. So, I opted for a short photo creep around Meridian Park rather than a lumber. In hindsight, I should have just hiked; the pain would have been more fun.

I got to the park around 8:30 and was one of two cars in the lot. I made my way down a small hill and stood at the foot of what alternates between a pond and a swamp filled with algae and scum, depending on the water levels. Today was a scum day.

The warm morning sun reflected off what water was in the pond as I stood surveying the trees, looking for critters and birds. I could hear a woman’s voice chatting; I assumed some walkers were approaching from the trail behind a row of nearby trees.

As the voice got louder I heard something and turned around to see a gold dog trotting towards me and happily diving into the scummy pond. The dog was friendly enough, splashed around, and then went on its way.

A few seconds later, I heard it again and turned around, still grinning from its earlier visit with me, but it was NOT the dog; it was another dog, a big German Shepard lunging at me with teeth showing, barking its head off. I nearly shit my pants and let out a “JESUS CHRIST! DOWN!!! WHAT THE FUCK????” as I stepped backward.

A second later, The Dingus1 appeared and called off the dog while giving me a half-hearted apology for not knowing there might be some public in the public park. All I could muster was, “HOW ABOUT A FUCKING LEASH???!!” (expletive included)

Soon, she and the two dogs were off, as she continued chatting away via her earbuds. I was UN-happy.

And.

It.

Would.

Get.

Worse (for her).

Funnier (for me).

With every critter nearby spooked, I headed down the short trail toward the river bank. As I exited the trail, I saw a dude coming out of the outhouse up the road from the lower parking lot. I thought nothing of it, and as I continued on, I could hear him moving his truck from the temporary space near the shitter to the actual lot. Again, no big deal.

No big deal, except that The Dingus was still walking her dogs, was also apparently parked in that lot and had STILL not put them on a leash, and the perfect storm of unleashed dogs nowhere near their owner and a man getting out of his parked car hit, and it was AMAZING!!

“AHHHH!! AHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHH!!! FUCK!!! WHAT THE FUCK???? GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!! DOWN!! DOWN!! GET OUT! WHAT THE FUCK!!!” He screamed like a literal madman as the dogs barked loudly and aggressively at him.

Soon followed by The Dingus saying, “I’m so sorry. Get down. Are you the same man from down at the pond?

AHHHHHHHH!!!!! NO! I’M NOT!! GET THEM THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! GET OUT!! JUST GET OUT!!!! WHAT THE FUCK????? GET AWAY!!! FUCK!!!!

This was all happening out of sight, about 100 yards away. I started inching my way back ’cause it sort of sounded like he might (rightfully?) be murdering her, and I wanted to see if he might need help.

Instead, I kept on walking with a smirk on my face, and while doing so, a few minutes later saw the porta-jon-dog-attack-man heading down another section of the trail alone. He was letting out random, angry, loud screams and cuss words as he walked. I’m talking legit loud Tourette’s syndrome meets vintage Bobcat Goldthwait-type shit.

He was CLEARLY insane and VERY disturbed. I thought, “Maybe he did kill The Dingus?”

With all this insanity happening, I got about two photos, said, “fuck this,” and went to Home Despot to return an item and pick up a belt sander. You KNOW shit is bad when I would rather go to the Mecca of emasculating DIY project failures than photo creep or hike.

I, of course, blame The Dingus for all this; put your dogs on a leash in public, especially big-ass German Shepards that you can’t control. I hope the dog eats her phone so she can’t walk around the woods talking loudly like some sort of lady-douche and ruining the peaceful woodsy vibes that camera lugging goofs looking for critters and screaming madmen equally seek.

Later.


  1. Bet you she’s one of those Michigan gardner-type dog people who birthed 10 kids back in the 80s, home-schooled her kids (one died from an overdose in east Nevada aged 31), doesn’t take care of her lady bits, lives like a hippy, but votes Trump because she’s “Christian,” racist at the core, and thinks homosexuality is “disgusting” because it says so in the Bible that her former lover/pastor gave her after her husband committed suicide in 1992. But I could be wrong.

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