Perhaps you suspect that the title of this blog post is a fake-out, and I’m going to launch into some wacky parable about startups or marketing or something. Well, you’d be wrong: it’s literally about catching dogs.
This city is one giant Heathcliff cartoon
Be prepared for some ridiculous nepotism on the part of Captain Kelly:
Since moving here six months ago, my wife and I have corralled three loose dogs. There’s a law about everything in San Francisco, so there must be a leash law; based on what I’ve witnessed, I suspect it’s illegal to use them.
Anyway, here’s your chance to learn from my mistakes.
Runaway Dog #1
Location: Ashbury Heights Month: April Breed: Don’t know. Don’t care. I’m not a dog person. Details: We were heading home when a dog joined us on our stroll. No humans were in sight. At first we thought he was tailing us, but then he took the lead, so we followed him. He trotted past several streets before heading up some steps to a front door. My wife rang the bell. A woman answered, and my wife asked if this was her dog. “No, but I’m his walker! Hello Gordon! Did you come to visit? Is it time for our walkies? You’re such a good boy! Yes you are…” Advice to prospective dog catchers: If a loose dog seems to know where he’s going, give him the benefit of the doubt.
Runaway Dog #2
Location: the Mission Month: June Breed: Don’t Know. Don’t care. I’m still not a dog person. Details: A little pup sprinted into a cross street between Mission and Valencia. We stood in the road to stop traffic. The dog ran in circles as we made futile attempts to catch him. Eventually a preteen boy showed up, and the dog meekly followed him home. Advice to prospective dog catchers: Some of your classier neighbors ‘walk’ their dogs by pushing them out the door and letting them crap in the street. Sometimes those dogs make a break for it. It’s tough to blame them.
Runaway Dog #3:
Bernadette hitches a ride home with the author
Location: Noe Valley Month: August Breed: Even I know this is a corgi. Details: We saw this girl motoring through a busy intersection with no regard for her personal well-being. I bolted after her while my wife found the owner. (He was the guy yelling, “I’m sixty-nine years old. I can’t run fast!” Apparently the dog had just arrived in town a few hours before: she was a ‘retired’ breeder dog from Arkansas and had never been off the farm. Cars and traffic were totally foreign to her. Thus her total obliviousness to the rules of the road.) The entire chase was under 10 minutes, but may I remind you that San Francisco is hilly? Especially Noe Valley, where the streets have sidestairs, not sidewalks. Wrangling her was a team effort: at intersections, drivers would point which way the dog headed. Advice to prospective dog catchers:
You are out of shape. Even a chubby little dog can outrun you. And you should really take off your fancy zip cardigan before you sprint up hills in San Francisco. It will get sweaty.
Don’t bother trying to tackle the dog. Instead, just push her to the ground and hold her there.
Keep your hands away from the dog’s mouth. She will bite.
After she’s bitten you, keep your hands away from her mouth. She will bite again.
For the love of God, KEEP YOUR HANDS AWAY FROM THE DOG’S MOUTH.
Remember that zip cardigan you were supposed to remove but didn’t? Yeah, she’s going to poop on it.
Sputnik 11 