Good offenses make good neighbors
- Oscar the Pooch
- 3 days ago
- 10 min read
The Wagon screeched back onto the road like the Scooby Mobile running from a ghost.
I didn’t notice how much my feelings hurt until we were safely on the road again. Why would anyone bark at me without getting to know me first? “What did we ever do to those homeleskimos to make them so mad at us?” I asked out loud.
“It wasn’t about you, Spud. They just don’t like intruders.”
“You could have told them that we respected their boogeybubble,” I said. “Maybe then they wouldn’t have been so aggressive.”
“I don’t think it was about the virus.”
“Then why? Who wouldn’t want to meet me? I’m terrific.”
“Well…” She wound up her mouth like she does when she’s preparing to ’splain something that doesn’t make sense. “You know how you bark at service dogs?”
“I hate those goody-goodies. Too high and mighty to sniff my butt…”
“Right. No one likes rejection, but those dogs have responsibilities more important than greeting everyone they meet.”
“Greeting everyone you meet is a very important job,” I huffed. “They think they’re so much better than me just because they get to go inside supermarkets and liberries. I could do those things too, if I wanted.”
“Someone else doing their job doesn’t mean you’re not a good dog. What does it even have to do with you?”
“Innocent guys like me get in trouble because of those self-satisfied snoots.”
“Maybe what gets a rise out of you isn’t the other dog, but that they stay calm when you can’t control intense emotions?” Mom suggested in a service-dog tone. “Could that be what makes you mad?”
“Well yeah! They’re gonna get me in trouble pretending to be good boys and girls like that. It’s all an act, you know. You don’t see it, Mom, but they’re just dogs underneath. I bet they lick their butts when no one’s watching.”
“It’s your insecurity, not the other dog that makes you lose your cool.”
“Not me! It’s because you can’t protect me from a judgy look. That’s why.”
“Right,” she said, as if she’d agreed with me the whole time. “People are the same way. They don’t just protect what’s precious, they also protect what they’re ashamed of. Some people don’t have it in them to keep up with the responsibilities of money, houses, cars, and their health because there’s something stuck on their minds that leaves no room for anything else. Maybe they’re doing their best, but others don’t understand why they can’t just follow the rules like the rest of us.”
“But their Friends love them just the way they are, right?”
“Love doesn’t always feel loving if someone’s offering you help that you didn’t ask for. It’s easier to hide than to explain yourself to someone who doesn’t get it. If you push all your friends away, at least there’s nobody to make you feel bad by helping. Nobody to let down if it doesn’t work. Nobody to take away your freedom if you can’t fix it yourself. The aggression is just misdirection to prevent anyone who comes too close from discovering their secret. That hobo wasn’t protecting anything in there but privacy and a whole lot of shame.”
“And that makes it okay to be mean to someone who’s just hiking by?”
“Sometimes the best defense is to take offense,” Mom said.
“And that makes it okay to be offensive?” I asked. “Why should I have to be polite to someone who has such bad manners?”
“They used their words, just like you do when you’re on leash and someone invades your personal space.” She shrugged. “Everyone’s allowed to protect themselves.”
It’s nice to have a life partner that gets you. “When I can’t escape, I’ve got to tell them somehow,” I agreed. “Good offenses make good neighbors.”
I hadn’t even noticed the End of the World sneaking up on us. Suddenly, there were no more trees and the earth simply broke off and fell into the sea. The Wagon drove straight toward the End. When it seemed like the only place to go was right into the ocean, a crossroad appeared and the Wagon turned to follow the jagged path of the coast. We floated along the highway, bobbing through the waves of wildflowers and cow fields as the ocean bashed itself against the cliffs, too far below to be part of my world. From up here, the waves were just ruffles to remind me how big the ocean really was.
Mom tried to keep the Wagon on the road as she watched the battle between land and sea. Rumble-grumble-mumble, said the Wagon’s belly every time Mom let its wheels follow her eyes too close to the water.
“Why don’t you take a picture? It lasts longer,” I harrumphed each time the rumbling disturbed my nap.
“I can’t take a picture because I can’t pull over because all the pullouts are blocked with caution tape,” she grumped.
“You can duck under it,” I said. “I’ll show you how.”
“That tape might as well be an impenetrable wall. Cars can’t bend the rules like people and dogs do.”
“If you say so…” I yawned. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to change her ways.
“Each one of those pullouts holds 1 to 2 cars at the most, and there’s nowhere to go when you get out of the car,” Mom ranted as if I were still listening. “People are gonna stop following the rules if you take things away for no good reason. Quarantine isn’t supposed to be a punishment.”
“If the tape isn’t there for safety, what would happen if you drove through at top speed like in the movies?” I asked.
“We’re at the top of a cliff, dummy. Have you ever seen Thelma and Louise?”
“Yes, of course. They outsmart the Law by doing what the audience least expects. Where do you think I got the idea from? We can hold hands if you want. One… two…”
Mom didn’t reach out her paw to hold mine. “What do you think happens after that last frame, Oscar?”
“It works and they get away, of course. Have you ever seen Thelma and Louise?”
“I’m not sure you got the point that the ending was trying to make.”
After many miles of searching, the Wagon found enough space between road and tape to pull over. It nosed its way into the gap in the tape and casually parked as if it were just thinking about where to go next. Mom and I dismounted and walked onto the beach as if we belonged there, looking for a place to potty away from prying eyes. We took our time coming back, doing our best to look like we’d just forgotten where we parked.
When we ran out of ways to look busy, we reluctantly returned to the Wagon. Mom had just closed the door behind me and was walking around to the driving chair when a motorcycle stopped a little ways away. Its knight dismounted and Mom smiled hello.
“Where are you from?” the Knight asked. I could tell that he was a furryner by the way he made his words like his mouth was full of tennis balls.
“The City,” Mom said.
“Eh?” the Furryner asked, taking off his helmet and stepping closer to hear better.
“The City,” Mom repeated, taking a step backward toward the Wagon.
“Eh?” the Furryner asked again, stepping to the edge of her boogeybubble.
“The City!” Mom shouted, taking the last step toward clean air. She stood with the butt shelf of the Wagon against the back of her knees, hoping he didn’t have any more questions.
“Eh?” The Furryner stepped even closer.
Mom leaned back and her arm shot out as if to shove the Furryner off a cliff. She might have done it, too, if he’d come any closer, but only by accident. They froze for a second, both staring at the stop hand at the end of Mom’s stiff arm. They realized in the same moment that they had each almost accidentally killed each other.
