What kind of omen is it when dogs keep crossing your path? I was walking to the grocery store last night through the little sewage river area with trees and when I was going over the wood bridge I was startled by a big, dark shape suddenly in front of me. I walk fast, and my head's usually down, so I didn't see it until I was right in front of it. It was one of those lean but shaggy waist-high dogs and he was just standing there. "He doesn't bite," said a girl sitting on the bridge railing with a fishing pole. This was at ten o'clock at night and there are no streetlights down there so I didn't see either being until I was really close. A girl with a fishing pole and her big dog--it was like walking into, I don't know, a Stephen King novel or something.
When I came back carrying my groceries, the dog jumped up on me like an old friend. "He doesn't want you jumping on him," the girl said. "Hello," I managed to say; I was kind of overwhelmed by a feeling guilt that I was making her feel like she couldn't bring her dog into the "park", let's call it, when I really didn't mind his affection at all.
To-day, I was driving on a section of road with a 55 mile per hour speed limit and so, of course, most of the people around me were at around 60 miles per hour, a little faster when we were going downhill. I saw a dog out of the corner of my eye happily trotting across the road and somehow I knew he wasn't going to stop. I managed to break just gradually enough to prevent the guy tailgating me from slamming into me while the dog passed inches in front of my car and the cars in the two other lanes barely managed to stop as well. I hope someone in the rightmost lane parked and stopped the fellow before he got himself killed.
Anyway--just a reminder, my new comic's online now here. Please have a look, and comments would be enormously appreciated. You don't have to read the history; it really is a bonus feature.