As I turned into my neighborhood from Eagle Canyon, I nearly ran over a small female pitbull wearing a winter sweater. Because she was running toward the main road, I tried to coax her to come to me.
Instead, she ran up Mercedes away from Eagle Canyon. I spent the next half hour trying to catch her. I wasn’t alone in this, as two other men had joined in the chase and had as much success as I did.
Finally, I headed for my house. After parking, I put my stuff away inside and grabbed the snow shovel to clear the driveway.
That’s when I heard the dog barking at two kids standing against a fence. Crossing the street to the children was a woman who looked my way and shouted, “Come get your effing dog! It’s scaring the kids!”
“Not my effing dog! Not my effing problem,” I returned, adding, “And tell those two little shits that it’s an effing dog, not an effing bear.”
Because of my PTSD, I don’t handle being yelled at by anyone very well. The next day I realized it was Dolly, a neighbor woman I have been friends with for the past 20 years.
The Old Blog in the Desert 