This morning while walking I encountered a man in a business suit who was chasing his little dog up and down the street. The man was obviously in a hurry and the dog had gotten out because a child had left the gate open. Dog-chasing-man was extremely angry and emitting short testosterone driven oaths at the creature who was running in wide circles and enjoying every minute of his freedom. I of course made the mistake of trying to help. “Do you have any dog treats?” I called. “No, I don’t have any treats,” he replied, struggling to withhold the “F” bomb, for it was clear he wanted to say, “No, I don’t have any fucking treats, and as a matter of fact, and for the general good of mankind, why don’t you go fuck yourself?”
And then of course the devil entered the picture, for he’s never far from my thinking. Indeed in my life he’s essentially a constructive force, a solid contrarian. I suppose each of us has something like this–call it a daimon or a totem–it doesn’t really matter. Maybe your particular devil looks like Elmer Fudd. Mine is intrigued by assholes who are in extreme positions. Dog-chasing-man was especially attractive to my devil who then, (as devils always do) took control of my mouth. “Well you know,” said my happy demon, “dogs really like treats, and it’s a good idea to carry them with you.”
Then the man’s dog did an unaccountable thing: he veered like an outside linebacker and ran full tilt for his home garage. Yes, there was a treat in store for the lad. I could tell that Dog-chasing-man wanted very much to give me the finger. But his little boy was standing in the driveway.
Planet of the Blind 
Of course the dog doesn’t want to come to him when he’s angry. I am angry with myself, not the dog, when I forget the treats and we have to do something difficult. I have a service dog now. It’s a nice life.
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