People in my neighborhood:
After running, and now walking, through my neighborhood for 4 years, I have seen my share of odd people. Most notably, there's the guy who runs backwards, but there are others I occasionally spy as well. Newly added to the list of these oddballs is this creepy fishing guy.
Scooter and I see him on our evening walks, and he's always stationed by one of the nearby canals where he's got several fishing poles set up. His "unique look" is always the same: No shirt, just sportin' a pair of faded cutoffs, beer belly hanging out for all the world to see, a leathery sort of tan, faded tattoos on both biceps, cigarette hanging off his bottom lip, and a cracked beer in his left hand. It's a look that Jerry has described as "My wife left me 5 years ago and I just don't give a crap anymore."
The guy freaks Scooter out (more because of the fishing poles than the tanned beer belly), and frankly, he kinda freaks me out as well. He looks like the sort who drives a white van with no windows. I wish he'd find some different canals to fish in.
The Kindness of Strangers:
Being visibly pregnant does have some advantages, like people opening doors for you and offering you their seat, but do you know what population doesn't give a crap that you're pregnant? Old people.
Seriously, the elderly don't give a rat's ass. They are still gonna stroll down the middle of the grocery store aisle in front of you with 3 things in their cart, they are still gonna ask you to fetch them things from the top of shelves, and they're still gonna butt in front of you in line at the deli. And today, I seriously thought that as I was walking across the parking lot at Walgreens that this old lady was gonna run me down in her Caddy. Either she didn't see me, or she really was gonna just plow me over, but either way, I picked up the pace to get outta her way!
A Dog's Sense of Time:
I am convinced that on some instinctual level, Scooter can tell time. Doubt me? Witness the following routine to most of our days: He gets up at 6 am and shakes to signal to either Jerry or I that it is time for him to go outside and pee; after peeing and enjoying his breakfast kibble, he returns to bed until 10 am, at which time, he gets up and is ready for a longer jaunt outdoors. When we come back inside, then it's "toy time" and he promptly fetches the 3 toys he and I always play with.
That wears him out for the following 4 hours, but at 2 pm, he's ready to repeat the 10 am routine of a walk and toys. Then he crashes for a few hours, but at 4:15, he goes and stands by the front door because that's when Jerry gets home. At 5 pm, he's looking at me with his "it's time for my dinner" eyes, and around 7 pm when I go to change into walking clothes, he comes and sits by me and waits, knowing that lacing up my shoes means that we're going for the evening's long walk.
I know, logically, that his actions are all rooted in learned routines, but sometimes it's eerie. I can be absorbed in a book and he comes trotting into the office to stare at me, and I look up at the clock and see that it's 2 pm on the nose, and it makes me think there's more to it than practiced routine.