As I’m walking home from my run, suddenly two little boys in their pajamas, whiz by me on scooters. 4 and 6 maybe, one taller than the other, with similar faces.
I look to see who they belong to, realizing at once who it is, when a bigger version, with a Black Lab, and a Collie, turns the corner on 86th.
“You have quite an enterprise,” I say, as he approaches.
He laughs, his mask dangling to one side, like a surgeon’s, and says, “You have no idea….HEY”!” he calls out to his sons who abruptly halt at the corner.
As we walk in step, he becomes totally tangled in the leashes of his two dogs.
His boys, like a tag team, cruise back. The younger one says, “Dad, not again!”
I try not to laugh since now he looks as if the dogs are walking him.
“Where’s mom?” I ask.
“Sleeping,” he says, a little begrudgingly.
“Well, I think you’re doing great,” I say, even though now he’s hopping on one foot. “How bout if I help?”
I manage to untangle Lassie who rolls her eyes as if to say, what are we gonna do with him? He can embarrass a girl.
I pet her, and whisper, be nice Lass.
“There, now that’s better,” I say to dad, “and hey, just want you to know, as an observer, I’m pretty impressed.”
“Why’s that?” he asks,” picking up after the Lab who has just pooped like a Marine.
“Because you’re not in your pajamas.”
I hand him back the Collie, leaving him grinning, with the poop bag still hot in his hand.
The two little boys, with the same grin, wave, as I cross the Avenue home.
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New York City
Kids on scooters
Walking your dogs
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