Stay

I haven't blogged in a while. I can see why everyone has migrated to FB and Twitter. They're easier. There, if i misspell something, i don't care. Nobody cares.

As expected, when i haven't done any "creative writing" in a while, i lose confidence i can do it again.

Some things you simply can't tweet. Well, you could, it would take 176 tweets to tell your story. And then everybody begs you to stop. Or they unfollow you.

I may have a smaller audience here, and in our share-everything-oh-look-at-me culture, this may make no sense. But, as Eddie tells Louis C.K., "You do it to tell the truth."

RJ and i are in the process of consolidating our lives and belongings. Downsizing is hard. Transitions are hard.

Of all things, i worry about Alley switching from a house to a 5th-floor condominium. The balcony is shit compared to the 1/4-acre (?) backyard. Off-leash time on carpet is not a dream. No more galloping or rolling on green. I picture walking her in the bitter winter cold of Northern California (ha, ha) and i wince.

Yesterday morning, for the first time since spending the night at the condo, RJ slept in. Alley had been restless and whining since 6:30. By 8:30, especially after a nightmare (mornmare?), i decided to walk her.

I was feeling pretty upbeat about it. It actually felt good to rise early. The morning air felt good. The sun felt good. I could see why rumor has it that peeps with pets tend to live longer.

Alley was greeted by friendly neighbors in the elevator singing praises of her fluffiness. They wanted to know her age. All exchanged information was met with approving nods and smiles. I tweeted later that scoring compliments just for being furry was not too shabby.

The internal clock is a funny thing. I had another mornmare today, and decided to walk Alley again.

When we strolled down the hallway, a door creaked open. I pulled Alley closer so as not to startle a neighbor. Not close enough. An older woman dressed in traditional ethnic costume, just emerging from her house, slightly jumped back at the sight of Alley. I smiled and said "good morning" and moved along, not waiting for a response.

As Alley and i were waiting for the elevator, said woman eventually approached with an older man whom i assumed to be her husband. I smiled and looked away.

Just as the elevator arrived, the woman frowned and asked, "Do they allow dogs in lifts?"

I was appalled. Who's "they"?

"Really?" I said. "I'll have to ask." I hadn't exactly read the entire owner's manual from the HOA.

Predictably, Alley and i entered the elevator, and the couple didn't follow suit.

I was furious. This was in stark contrast to the experience yesterday.

Why would an HOA not allow pets in elevators? Seriously? In what world would pet owners be asked nicely to take the stairs? I've lived in a lot of places, mostly apartments, and NEVER have i heard such an absurd suggestion. That's like saying parents with small children shouldn't be allowed on a plane. Which some may argue fervently is not a bad idea. But we can't bar 'em. This gets my blood boiling! Maybe they shouldn't allow dog-haters in elevators!

At the park we ran into the young woman across the hall from us who had always been nice in a meek way. She, too, on this day, was donning a traditional ethnic outfit. I'd never seen her in one before. She looked lovely.

We smiled and said "good morning".

I held Alley close again. She's a people-whore.

Just as neighbor was gonna pass us, Alley pulled on her leash, stopping neighbor on her tracks. Fear and hesitation was displayed.

"Can i go?" She asked timidly.

Holding on to the leash firmly, i replied, "Go ahead!"

Again i was irritated. Given, if i didn't know a dog's temperament, i wouldn't bet on it being well-trained without facts. However, it is true: if a small dog hops to greet you, it's cute and adorable. If a big dog makes a move, it's intimidating. Sounds like size profiling to me.

That's two for two. All of a sudden i understood perfectly why it's easy to consider everybody in a certain group all the same. No! I won't do that.

Long after coming home, i couldn't get over it. I hate when i feel this way. And, knowing me, i have to question why i'm so affected. Was it the disdain i felt as the older woman glared at us? The discrimination? The injustice? The alienation? Come on, wasn't i blowing things out of proportions?

Because I've been reading Sarah's Key? Persecution is everywhere. All the more reason not to judge, especially not by ethnic group.