Adventures in Dog-sitting

I really enjoy dog-sitting for my friends. There are lots of benefits to it, and it's a guarantee that I'll be at least marginally more fit for the experience, since most of the pooches I look after are spry and energetic. When you mix dog-sitting with living in L.A., you are mixing two quirky states of being and practically asking for funny encounters. 

Take this recent quixotic adventure, for example. Lucy and I were enjoying an afternoon stroll down the hill to our local coffee shop. And by enjoying, I mean melting in the heat. And by down the hill, I mean our joints were aching. Anyway, I stopped at a corner in some confusion and trepidation because there in front me was a funny little sight: a small Asian woman in a wheelchair, bundled up, pushing ahead of her a grocery cart, using her legs to inch ahead. She was struggling to move in any direction, though, as though she herself wasn't sure where she was going.

"Ma'm, do you need any help?" I asked. "Can I help you get up on the sidewalk?"

"No, no," she said, in the way I would imagine Margaret Cho impersonates her mother," I'm okay, I'm okay. Ohhhhh, that is a cute dog!" She paused-- in the middle of the street!-- to set her elbow on her armrest, and check out Lucy on her leash. "Is she your dog? She so cute! How old?" She demanded sternly.

"She's about ten years old now, " I said, nervously eyeing the three cars making their way to the intersection. But they must be used to bizarre sights on this street. Slowing down only slightly in the way that Californians do, they smoothly went around her. 

"Ten! Aiyo! That's no good! Seventy years old, she will die soon! She will die, and then you will have heart trouble, because you will be very sad."

"Oh, well, she's not mine, she belongs to a friend-- listen, are you sure I can't--"

"Your friend! Ah, you are baby-sitting this dog, eh? Baby-sitting?! No, no, you must tell your friend no more! No more! You understand me?! Aiyo! She will be dying soon, and you will have a broken heart, and then how can you find a boyfriend?" She shook her head, marveling that things had come to such a state in this world.

"I'm sure she'll be alright, "I said, as Lucy danced impatiently under me. "She's still got a few good years left in her--" 

"No! You are wrong, she will die very very soon. You listen to me, ok? You tell your friend no more! You will be have so many heart problems because she will die very soon...." 

"Well, alright, you must be right, of course. Look, I'm a little worried, and I'm sure you need help--"

"No, no! Look, I'm okay" She slowly inched her way towards the corner of the sidewalk, along with her dingy little grocery cart. "There now, you see? I will be okay! And you tell your friend, ok?"

"I will. Thank you for the advice! Bye now-- come on, Lucy." 

I walked quickly on, afraid she would offer more advice on my love life. I marvel that I have so many funny encounters like this, and it's definitely one of the things I enjoy most about walking places, and another benefit of not owning a car in Southern California. How many wonderful interactions with other people do we miss out on because we are flying past our neighborhood lives? I am not being facetious-- sure, there are some quirky moments, some embarrassing moments. There are moments when men catcall or drivers are not courteous. But I think people's lives would be all the more colorful for running their errands on foot more often. 

As for the old woman, I'm not really sure what her deal was. All I remember is looking back halfway down the block, and noting that she was no longer there! Instead, there was just concrete, and the sun shining down on it, as it always has.