By early spring 2019, for all intents and purposes, Quinn had to be considered 100%. Her stitches had been pulled out. The swelling and tenderness had gone away. All her hair had grown back that had been shaved. Outside of the fact that my dog had no eyes, one wouldn’t be able to tell that the surgery to remove them only happened six weeks prior.
I pulled the driver’s side of the van up to the empty curb under the redwood tree whose roots were wreaking significant havoc on the sidewalk and into the street. We had no intention of stopping, but because the small, midtown park was empty, and I noticed two women, one man, and two cattle dogs having what appeared to be a real time of it, I couldn’t resist. In fact, right when I pulled up to the curb, one of the Blue Heelers was in the process of going down the plastic slide at the far corner of this street corner park. Judging a book by its cover, this was our kind of company.
I turned the van off and opened my door without giving Quinn any kind of ‘off command’. That’s her queue to wait for me at the sliding side door. Silly I know. I cracked the slider and she jumped out into the street.
One dog was on a leash and the other wasn’t. Quinn sniffed her way to the grassy portion of the street corner park. She peed immediately and began to blindly bark which is her way of saying that additional canines were surely in the very near vicinity. Her radar is usually good to about 75 yards. These dogs were only about 100 feet away.
So she starts barking which is my queue to tell the other dog owner(s) that my dog has no eyes. The reaction(s) by the three humans, in particular one, were almost in line with the reactions I have been getting from most humans, though this energy didn’t quite feel right enough and I immediately began to feel like I had made an error stopping at this dumb park. Here’s how this 90 seconds played out.
Right from the get-go, he started calling my dog buddy. “Hey buddy!” “I’m right here Buddy!” “Can you see me buddy?” Very odd behavior I kept thinking. Downright annoying actually. For starters, Quinn is not a buddy or a Buddy, and most certainly not this guy’s buddy or Buddy.
I come from the school of canine where buddy is a sound that is predominantly reserved for the male dog. Of course a female dog can get referred to as buddy or ‘little buddy’ for a while, but only a while. Like maybe six months maximum. How many adult women in the world are named or referred to as Buddy or Bud? Probably not too many, if any.
For his next act, and without asking of course, AND in a very abrasive sorta style I must add, especially towards a canine with no eyes, let alone any living being or creature with no eyes, he began sticking little dog treats into my dogs muzzle area and asking “Buddy” if she wanted a treat. He obviously didn’t know that my dog is NEVER going to take candy from a goofball stranger, but sure enough he kept trying. I finally said, “Hey Bud, she doesn’t want your stupid treat!”
Act 3 began when this guy calls his people over to meet the dog with no eyes that ‘looks just like’ some dog that they know. I hate when people do that but that too happens quite frequently. Like it’s not enough that I have a very sweet Red Heeler with no eyes, YOU have to make a new declaration that my dog looks like a dog that you know that isn’t here for anyone to judge whether it’s true or not.
Anyway, the ladies now both come over. Actually, the lady that had the other Heeler on the leash sort of kept her distance signifying to me that it might not be the most socially understanding dog. The other lady however walked over and said something like, “Oh yeah HE looks just like Rufus but maybe a little bulkier,” Or maybe she used the word huskier, I forget.
So from (B)buddy to food forcing to show stealing to dog shaming to overall lack of what on dog earth is going the fuck on, I was a wrong word away from removing myself and Quinn from this small park and the humans and dogs that were currently making it up.
And then it happened! So out of thin air that it really truly surprised me. His dog attacked Quinn and then attacked her again. A double attack out of nowhere! Why dogs do what they do when they do it is sometimes impossible to fingerprint, but I quickly had my theories. No dog has ever attacked my dog and we have been around hundreds of dogs on our journey together.
So the attack goes down. I scream something loud and the one-sided fight stops immediately. I was so bummed for Quinn and so angry at the other party involved, but I didn’t say a word. Nor did I look at them with any kind of disdain or dislike. I also didn’t make them feel like they had a lot to learn. I picked up Quinn, turned my back and walked away.
After about a minute, and still I suppose purposely within their sight of us, I set her down and stopped to check her status. Her hair was still spiked up. She was definitely shaking in her boots. She had a little blood near the tip of her lower lip. Outside of that she was perfectly fine. We were both fine.
I gave her 30 hard seconds of very encouraging words and we moved on down the road.