Parallel walking. With Rottweilers.
So. Mid summers eve in the 'hood. The crack dealers are biking up & down between the Illinois Ave house and the Penn Ave house (I'm in the state street neighborhood.) Cell phones dingalinging and sometimes Baby On Board bike. The nicer cars belonging to customers come and go. The girls who are waiting for the bus but not-really are hanging out in hot pants, jiggly thighs and skinny arms.Ugly, a guy would have to be desperate. I think, though I'm not a guy.
So, hook dogs to coupler, hook up 6' leash, make them sit and wait for the door to open & they're OFF! Charge of the Light Brigade misic, or maybe William Tell Overture. I decide I am not going to fly horizontally down the street behind the Rottweilers. Dammit, they are going to pay attention.
It's a whole different deal walking two, because they pull against each other. One pees here, the other must back track and pee right on the same spot. Big loops of dog slobber curl across their backs as they clamber over each other to leave pee mail. I decide we are not walking another fucking inch unless we are doing it nicely. Several blocks are walked with me hauling up short every time they pull. Either of them, I don't care. Each time, they turn towards me - yes? What? Us? What? Oh, riiiight.
After a few more blocks we are waiting on command at cross walks and not pulling. If anyone wisecracks "Who is walking who" I will deck them, I swear. Nobody does. Many of the kids in the neighborhood know the dogs because I walk them regularly. Several people cross the street as we approach, to get away. The one dealer who I particularly dislike because he hollers God Bless at everyone & always crosses the street when he sees me, trying to look casual. When I see him I tug up on the leash and hiss at the dogs so they get suspicious. I don't really like doing it, but I want them to act unfriendly sometimes. Right now I am a single female living alone in Murder Capital USA, East Flint. If I didn't give a whit about security, I'd have Goldens.
There's a woman named Diane who lives several blocks away and runs a daycare out of her house. She and the kids weren't out tonight...but she & I chat & the kids know the dogs and come out of the yard to play with them. It's too hot for the dogs to be buttheads for long. After a while, they settle down and walk nicely. The house with the three frenzied fence-running dogs is always a challenge, but we manage to get by them without embarassment tonight.
Is it optimistic to think I can graduate to bicycling with them both at once?