The Crazy, Deaf, Socially-Inept Dog Lady

I was having trouble clearing my head today.

I will readily admit that I have spent a great deal of time this weekend thinking about Stan, and many of the friends I worked with before Jack was born. It's a natural progression when you work in a school, that the majority of your social life stems from your colleagues. So I suppose it follows that when you go on maternity leave, your social life goes the way of uninterrupted sleep and taut skin on your abdomen.

I absolutely loved teaching at Rosebud. Quite apart from enjoying my job and the wonderful students there, I had a great group of friends. The best part of my job was coming into work every day and seeing my mates. When I went on maternity leave and Christian changed schools, we moved far enough away to make socialising with our old friends difficult. Even though I still see quite a few of them, I have felt the loss of the daily comraderie.

This weekend, after the passing of a man who embodied everything that was wonderful about the school, I felt out of sorts. I was grieving for Stan, I missed my old friends. I could not settle to any task, nor could I sit still. So after swimming lessons today, when the kids were resting after lunch, I took Archie out for a walk to see if the wind could blow the restless cobwebs out of my head.

It was the type of day that made it very difficult to feel blue. Sunny, cold and windy - the sort of weather that makes you want to rug up and go outside. There were crunchy leaves scudding everywhere, an enormous blue sky, and an empty footpath stretching out in front of me.

Since Archie is still only young, he is very nervous of all the new and exciting things we encounter on our walks. Being such a blustery day, I took my time encouraging him to walk past scary autumnal leaves, terrifying cracks in the footpath, and the decidedly disturbing dogs we could hear barking kilometres away.

After about half an hour, I was feeling a little better. More balanced, more aware of the things I am thankful for. And Archie was clearly enjoying himself, because he had settled into a good rhythm beside me, stopping only occasionally to grab an alluring scent from a fence or tree.

And then I had a run-in with an interesting personality, which undid a lot of the calming work my walk had achieved. A woman with an enormous dog came up behind us, and I moved off the footpath to let her go through. Now, if you saw an obviously young pup hiding between it's owner's legs, with it's tail tucked firmly underneath, you'd keep your dog away and walk on, right?

Not this moron idiot stupidhead person. First of all, she let her dog barrel straight into Archie, claiming he was being "friendly". When I told her my puppy was young and frightened, and that we were on a walk to get him used to the neighbourhood, she continued to let her dog harrass Archie until I put myself between the two dogs. Archie began to cry loudly, something he has not done since he was 8 weeks old and separated from his mummy for the first time. By bending down to comfort him, I must have clearly given my consent for a barrage of canine-related advice.

I then got subjected to her life story, and that of her dog. I received a lecture about how big Archie would become, and how I should socialise him with children and other dogs, and that I should take lots and lots of photos of him, because before I knew it, he'd be grown and I'd be bored with him. By this point, I was backing away, thinking, how stupid can one person be?

Clearly, she was deaf too, because I tried several times to end the conversation with gems such as, "Well, we'll be going now" and "Ok, enjoy your walk!", and even "I need to go now. My children are at home and they need their insulin." Still, this imbecile talked about her dog, and my dog, and how I didn't know anything about my dog, but she did.

I had actually backed myself into the middle of the road before she took a breath. Amazingly, she did not see that I was trying to escape - as I turned my back on her, she called out for me to come with her to the park to throw balls for the dogs. I threw an apology over my shoulder, and ran. They say border collies are smart dogs - I reckon Archie is an absolute genius. You've never seen a dog run away from a lunatic so fast in your life. He hurled himself against the lead and gasped all the way home, occasionally glancing behind us to make sure the crazy lady was not chasing him.

Archie took a while to settle down after we returned home. Poor puppy, his feathers were badly ruffled. I got stuck into cleaning the kitchen, tending the new herbs growing on my windowsill, washing dirty clothes, stripping our bed after Phoebe had an "accident", cooking dinner. The kids played their current favourite game, "Fire Baby", which involves the Mouse being the fire baby, and the other two running screaming away from her in delight. All three love this particular game of their own invention. Daddy and I have learned selective-deafness.

Before I knew it, it was time for tea. A cold Sunday, early-night sort of tea, eaten around the table together after a bath and clean jarmies. Pussy cats and puppy dogs huddled inside out of the rain. Washing drying on the clothes horses. Sunday night telly.

And my head is still sad, but much clearer now. No thanks to the dog-lady-lunatic who roams the streets of my town, searching for fellow dog-people to berate / befriend. And do you know who would laugh his backside off at all this? Yep. Stan. Well mate, I hope you got a giggle out of it. One day I might.