It was around 7ish in the morning as I walked through the Central Park.
It’s quiet and peaceful at that hour, so when I heard someone yell, it immediately got my attention. I couldn’t hear exactly what this runner in black spandex from head-to-toe was saying, but the essence of anger was clearly felt.
A dog, from what I could see, was playfully chasing him. His owner, an elderly black man, calmly walked in the distance undisturbed by the man’s over-the-top response.
I stopped to observe, on the dog’s behalf, so I thought, and felt my blood go up like a broken thermometer.
“You better keep that fucking dog on a leash,” this guy yelled, “you have no right to let him roam.” Actually he does, till 9 a.m. dogs in all their glory can run free.
I was impressed by this old man’s magnanimity having seen fights ensue for far less then this.
The funny part was this dog who was as vicious as a circus clown, was never a threat to this man. He was just happy to be out, having a great time. A rescue to be sure, something I know without asking, just the way he looks to see if his master is coming…a doggie smile from ear to ear.
Dogs who get a second chance show it and it’s a wonderful sight to see.
The runner, though the dog had now joined his owner, was still screaming.
I stepped up to the plate not being able to help myself. Whenever I encounter anyone who thinks he has special park privileges, I see red.
“Who the fuck are you yelling at that way,” I said, calling him out. It didn’t much matter to me he loomed a good 2 feet over me. A handsome, male model type fancying himself no doubt, as a great athlete affected by the playful audacity of what he obviously perceived, as a dumb dog.
“Are you talking to me?” he said, shocked…I mean, if I wasn’t so mad, I would have laughed at the look on his presumptuous face.
“Yeah, I’m talking to you. WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TALKING TO THIS MAN THIS WAY…WHO?”
Boy, did I come out swinging.
“IT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS BITCH.”
“YOU MADE IT MY BUSINESS DISTURBING THE PEACE. WHAT’S YOUR NAME, CAUSE I’M GONNA REPORT YOU…FOR HARASSMENT…AND FOR THE RECORD, YOU BELONG ON A LEASH.”
Yeah I know, in my own way, I was as crazy as he was.
The old man, still serene as can be, said, “Come on now Miss, let’s just get on with our day and let the man get on with his,” the dog at his side still smiling.
The idiot runner who I so wanted to punch in my post-Prednisone stupor finally went on his way, but if I see him, again, I’ll be right back in the ring.
It’s interesting how I had never seen him before…but would remember him like a wanted poster hanging at the post office.