The girl is seriously grooving. Wish the vet would have given me a shot in the butt, too. I could use a little medicated high right now.
Guess what I had to do? As the editor of town's only newspaper, I write up the police report each week. Usually I enjoy doing this, because some of them are so bizarre: The man who reported that his Bible had been swiped while he was at church. The guy seen running naked along the beach with a fishing pole. The drunk woman who called 911 because she couldn't get her shoes tied.
Today, however, I had the dubious honor of writing in my own police report. Which wasn't accurate.
It stated I had been walking with my dog. Walking? Duh, I was running. It also said that the dogs "tousled."
Hello! My dog has deep tissue damage and may never run mountain trails again. That isn't a "tousle."
But as a reporter I know how things get misinterpreted, so I thought I'd go with the flow, not make a scene and write it as reported by the police.
Then I got to the part of the report from the intervew with the owner of the dogs that attacked me. And he lied. He lied on an official police document and I have to write it up and print it in the paper because that's my job and people lie and it sucks but there's not a damn thing I can do about it.
I was so furious that I cried.
But as Richard Fish would say in "Ally McBeal"--bygones.
The good news is that the sun was shining, shining, shining today and the sky still clear when I hit the trails late afternoon right before dusk, for a lonely run without my dog, sigh, sigh.
Even the pictures look a bit gloomy and sad, don't they? It was so odd to run trails without The Beebs. Just having her presence with me as I run is such a comfort. Sometimes I swear that as the miles go by and we each become lost in the motion of our bodies, we communicate in a wordless and ancient way, in the language of people and animals before the intrusion of the spoken word.
Good news: My son made the Dean's List at Lewis & Clark College again, woot-woot. He had a 3.933 GPA for the semester. Way to go, C!
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