I Am Not a Dog Person revisited

Although I am still living in the suburbs, I am in the city a good 3-4 nights each week. Thanks to my good friends that live in the city and my boyfriend, I have a place to stay any time I want to get out of the 'burbs. Each week the nights I spend in the city change, except Saturday night. I cannot tolerate being in the 'burbs on a Saturday night. It feels even more pathetic than being here on any other night of the week, which is to say that it feels unbearably pathetic because it is only Tuesday and already I feel pretty damn pathetic.

This past Saturday night I went out with a girlfriend. We had fun and went to bed fairly late. For some reason, however, no matter how late I go to sleep and how drunk I am at the time of falling asleep, I am still up and around before 8:00. So I woke up early that Sunday, and I decided to take friend's dog for a walk. Some of you may remember that I am not a dog person. But that does not mean that if there is a dog in the room, I cannot figure out what to do with it. The dog was clearly eager to go out, so I threw a leash on him and took him for a walk with me. My intention was simply to get coffee and bring the dog home, but it was such a beautiful day in Chicago that I decided to walk around Bucktown for a good hour.

I learned a few things from this excursion. First of all, I confirmed that I am not, in fact, a dog person. I found myself annoyed with every totally natural dog-thing he did. I mean seriously, how many times do we have to stop and sniff the fire hydrant? Yes, another dog pissed on that hydrant. And, Henry*, those are leaves. Mystery solved. Enough with the stopping so we can smell them already. The second thing I learned is that, in spite of the first lesson I learned, if I am ever single again, I am going to buy a dog. I looked like poop when I went on this dog walk. My hair was in a pony tail. I had on workout clothes and running shoes, and I was wearing no makeup. Yet, I got hit on by more people than I did the night before when I was out on the town in full makeup**. None of the men was particularly attractive, but neither was I. Imagine if I had on even little makeup... a dash of blush here and an application of mascara there. Finally, I learned that dog owners somehow manage to ignore the fact that their dogs are sniffing each other's asses when they greet. Should we not acknowledge this? I mean, I would not expect a dog owner to acknowledge it if she encounters the same people on her walk all the time; but why not make a funny joke about it the first time? "Hey, didn't I see your dog at [insert local bar here] last night pulling that same move on a blond?" I mean, why the fuck not? It is so uncomfortable for me to watch this perfectly natural ritual happen. The whole sniffing situation paired with the daddy of the aggressor dog hitting on the mommy of the submissive dog makes for one awkward situation. Am I the only person that finds this impossible to ignore? Finally, I learned that I miss living in the city even more than I thought. It was a perfect fall morning in Chicago, and I walked that dog as long as I could before I had to head back to the 'burbs. So I had to suffer through some awkward dog sniffing moments along the way, but it was worth it. Is it Saturday yet?



*That's the dog's name, the same dog, in fact, who helped me to discover originally that I am not a dog person.
**Which isn't really saying much, since I don't generally get swarmed when I go out, but two guys in hit on me during my dog walk.