I love that dogs do exactly as they please. Indeed, they do things humans would love to do if only we had the courage 鈥� and the law would allow it.
Here鈥檚 an example: The other day we took a walk on a sunny beach. Up ahead, I noticed a shirtless, 30ish guy doing weird movements. Sort of tai chi-style. There was a distinctly gleeful air to him.
My immediate reaction was annoyance. It鈥檚 not that I have anything against exercise or tai chi. What bugs me are people who do this stuff in public so that everyone can admire them. It becomes more of a performance (鈥淗ey, check out my awesome tai-chi moves鈥�) than a true desire to get fit or whatever.
At least, that鈥檚 my theory.
鈥淗ow come you鈥檙e grinning?鈥� asked my wife.
鈥淣o reason,鈥� I said.
This wasn鈥檛 true. I was fantasizing that Tai Chi Man was being chased by hungry wolves. Before my wife interrupted my daydream, the shirt-free one was begging for his life and promising the biggest wolf he鈥檇 never do tai chi in public again.
Just then, something pretty great happened.
First, a little background. Our pug dog, Ollie, likes to urinate about 20 times whenever he goes for walks. I guess he鈥檚 marking his territory. Anyway, as we passed Tai Chi Man, Ollie dashed over to a stick-like contraption standing upright next to him. Before we could say or do anything, our dog had relieved himself on the stick.
Pretty good eh? Wait, it gets better. Tai Chi Man yelled out: 鈥淗ey, that鈥檚 my mace!鈥�
That鈥檚 right. This guy had a mace. You know, like a weapon. It wasn鈥檛 one of those medieval maces with a spiky ball. The ball on the end of his club was a thunky-looking wad of black plastic. No doubt he wields it during fantasy games staged by the local chapter of the Society for Creative Anachronism.
鈥淪orry, sorry,鈥� my wife and I both said.
But only one of us truly meant it. Meanwhile, Ollie wore his customary look of mild insanity, mostly because his tongue always lolls crazily out of his mouth.
To Tai Chi Man鈥檚 everlasting credit, he didn鈥檛 have a temper tantrum, as many would upon discovering their mace was used as a urinal. First, he washed the sullied part of his weapon with a bottle of water (no doubt at hand so he could hydrate like mad during his vigorous tai chi workout).
Then he said: 鈥淎h, no problem. Cheers you guys.鈥�
This made me think that, despite initial evidence suggesting otherwise, (shirtless tai chai moves, non-ironic mace ownership) this person probably wasn鈥檛 a bad guy after all.
Nonetheless, at the risk of making myself look bad, I confess it was a curiously satisfying encounter. I鈥檝e replayed it many times in my mind since 鈥� it never fails to give me a lift.
A somewhat similar incident happened six years ago. We stayed at an Airbnb rental in Burnaby for a week. Our daughter was about to begin studies at the British Columbia Institute of Technology 鈥� my wife and I came to ease the transition.
The rental turned out to be pretty much a disaster. For starters, our lodgings were in the basement suite of a house. In Burnaby. It was dark and vaguely depressing.
Not only that, I had an unfortunate incident with the man who owned the house. Let鈥檚 call him Ernie. One afternoon, I went into the backyard to smoke a cigar. Suddenly Ernie 鈥� beefy, red-faced 鈥� popped out of his house like a jack-in-a-box. He trotted over to me, waggling his fingers and saying: 鈥淣o, no, no, no!鈥�
Apparently smoking wasn鈥檛 allowed in the backyard. Fair enough. However, Ernie鈥檚 manner was that of a fed-up parent reprimanding a toddler for spilling his cup of apple juice.
I vowed revenge. But . . . how?
Well, it came the very next day. Ernie and his family had graciously volunteered to look after Ollie (yes, we鈥檇 brought him along) while we went out to dinner.
When we returned, Ernie dashed out, all red-faced and agitated.
鈥淵our dog went upstairs into my daughter鈥檚 bedroom,鈥� he said. 鈥淎nd he took a dump on her white eiderdown.鈥�
Horrors. We explained Ollie may have been nervous in a new environment. And we gave him $40 to cover the dry-cleaning costs.
鈥淪orry, sorry,鈥� my wife and I both said. But only one of us truly meant it. Apparently, revenge is a dish best served by one鈥檚 pug dog. Privately, I exalted in the fact that Ollie had taken care of business . . . by doing his business.
Next week: New York鈥檚 hottest new club is 鈥淐ovfefe.鈥� This place has everything: bouncers dressed as Sean Spicer, washroom attendants with tiny hands and a shirtless DJ called Putin.