The path outside of our house is so laden with gravel every time I push Ellis in
her stroller I feel like I'm competing in the stroller X-games. It doesn't help
that Ellis is, as a stranger at the park described her yesterday, "a tank." Who
knew 10 months of breast milk and some fruit puree could produce such
substantial thighs. I like to count the sections of her appendages by the way.
It's a source of pride for me.
The primary reasons for walking Ellis in
her stroller are to get her to sleep, which works five out of ten times, to get
my ass to fit in my jeans again, so far I'm squeezing into my fat jeans, and to
walk our two hounds, Nina and Jaco. Our HOA does not allow dogs to be without a
leash and unfortunately my flagrant non-compliance does not allow for them to be
on a leash so every walk we takes provides for a rather substantial adrenaline
rush. Our HOA manager is sneaky. I could take him if I had to but he is at least
75 so I figure a fistfight is out of the question. He drives a golf-cart and
smokes like brush fire. My heart races like a crack-addict every time I hear the
squish of the gravel around the corner. "Is it Frank?" I think nervously. Or
worse yet, is it a small child on their bike who my dogs will scare the cheerios
out of. Or worst still, is it that angry lesbian lady who was bit by a dog in
1975 and who has clearly not recovered emotionally from the incident. She, by
the way, stages quite the scene when we do cross paths. Luckily I have become
adept at recognizing her particular form of gravel squishing. She runs, which
pretty much distinguishes her from the golf cart and every other neighbor who
runs only if something is chasing them.
In Northern New Mexico, there is
something known as the "Mi Jito" complex, wherein, your Mi Jito, aka, your
baby/child/grandchild, or in my case dogs, can do no wrong. They'll bark at you,
they'll chase you and should the stars align, they'll also poop in your
yard. It's not personal and in my opinion its what dogs do, and mine in
particular do it quite well.
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