There comes a time in every child’s life where someone question’s their well being, and the parent instinctually wants to fight. In this case, the child is Brinkley.
It was just another day at the park. Saturday brought beautiful weather so it wasn’t a hard decision to take Brinkley on a walk through some trails to tire him out rather than deal with him constantly putting slimy toys on my shoulder.
We WERE having fun. Trails were something new for Brinkley. Brandon and I watched as Brinkley led the way through the weaving rocky trails. Every 30 seconds Brinkley would turn around, make sure we were still following, and wait in place if he thought we were too far away. He would stay on the narrow trail the whole time except to pee. His instincts chose the paths and the paths led us to a beautiful lake filled with fisherman and row boats.
Proof of fun being had:
I have to give Denton credit, I didn’t think the 50-cent-double-well-drink city could be so gorgeous.
The three of us were having a good time until we walked through the dog park before leaving. Brandon tossed the mud colored tennis ball a few more times while I watched all the dog have their play dates. All of a sudden, a lady walks up to me, and in a disturbed voice says, “Oh my, does your dog have a hip problem?”
Cue internal Becca wanting to punch someone for the first time in her life.
No. No he doesn’t. My 7-month-old puppy does not have a hip problem.
While I am trying to rationally come up with a halfway polite answer, the lady then answers herself.
“Oh yes, he definitely has a hip problem.”
This isn’t my child. I didn’t create this adorable dog out of my own genes. But that doesn’t matter. This lady was accusing MY dog of a hip problem. She was bluntly telling me what was the matter with my dog.
A lot of feelings arose once these words left her mouth. A lot of them probably weren’t necessary. A lot of them probably weren’t her intentions. Either way, whether she meant to or not, this lady made me a crazy woman for the rest of the day.
My thought process the rest of the day:
Who does she think she is? Is she Supervet? Did she study Golden Retriever hips at Harvard? Oh honestly, she thinks she knows my dog better than me? Who wears green stretch pants anyway? Go home and organize your embarrassingly large collection of jean jackets. Believe me lady, if he had a hip problem I would know about it. Come to think of it, he has been laying on the couch for three hours without moving. Maybe he does have a hip problem. Oh my gosh, my seven month old dog has a hip problem. The stupid lady with the grown out roots was right. Will Brinkley be able to have his first birthday party? Maybe I should take him to the emergency vet. I should cook him some bacon. He loves bacon. He needs it for his bad hips. I’m going to cook bacon.
I’m sure that when this happens with an actual child, the feelings are exponentially stronger, and the mean and insane thoughts are even more severe.
After a long shower and a beer, I calmed down long enough to realize Brinkley was fine but tired. He didn’t need to go to the vet, and if he has a hip problem, the vet will let me know and we will address that issue when and if it happens.
But, as of now, Brinkley has no hip problem. He runs like a free spirited, clumsy puppy who is getting used to his rapidly growing body. The evil woman who managed to ruin half of my Saturday did teach me something though.
Whether it is because of a hip problem or something else, one day Brinkley will not be an invincible puppy. He will be slowed down or in pain for one reason or another. There’s nothing I can do to change it. All I can do is give him all the love in the world, cook countless strips of bacon, and let him sleep on my bed even if it means lint rolling my bedspread.
More Brinkley:
Brinkley Timeline:
