Dog Food
It was Sunday. I returned to my apartment in Nashville after spending only my second weekend back in Pittsburgh since I moved here in July 2020. It was maybe 8:30am and I was fresh off of a flight that left Pittsburgh at 6:45am. I decided to lay down for a little. I was exhausted from the weekend past and felt if I was going to be worth a damn, I’d have to rest up.
I was in Pittsburgh to attend a wedding. The groom has been a close friend of mine since 7th grade. The wedding was delayed by a year as a result of all that occurred in the world over the previous year. Weddings aren’t my favorite. I dislike dancing and I’ve never had much interest in small talk with someone who I will spend 3 hours with and never see again. But, I was looking forward to watching one of my long time friends tie the knot and begin the next chapter of his life. Although, if you were to ask him how he felt about the idea of needing a wedding to symbolize his love to his fiancee’, he’d probably act aloof and tell you that he didn’t need to spend the amount of money they probably spent to make it ‘official’.
While in Pittsburgh, I stayed at another one of my friend’s houses. He and his fiancee just finished building a house together and were excited to host. Again, confronted with people that I’ve known most of my life taking more serious steps towards adulthood.
Watching my friends hurl themselves into adulthood can feel conflicting.
On one hand, I’m 28 years old and I couldn't be further from where I thought I’d be at this age. If, at 18 years old, you would have asked me what my life would be like at 28 years old, I can hardly imagine I would have told you that I’d be living in Nashville, TN, working for a company other than my dad’s, and preparing to move into an apartment with a friend that I met less than 6 months ago. On the other hand, I’m happier than I’ve ever been because I know I’m making the hard decisions I need to make to become the person I’m supposed to be.
So, while it’s fun to watch my childhood buds grow up more quickly than I am, I’m content with the pace I’m moving.
Happy to wake up on the $200 couch that I paid for myself. Happy to live in the apartment that I pay for myself. And, I’m happy when I look in the mirror and see the man I’m making.
Naturally, when I wake from the post-flight slumber, the digital clock on the microwave says 2:30pm. Shit. I snoozed my alarms and now I’ve slept the better part of the day away. Annoyed with myself, I decide I’m going to take a long run to curb some of the self-loathe.
Making my best effort to make up for lost time, begrudgingly, I change into my running gear, lace up my Nikes, throw my running hat on my head, and make my way to the sidewalk.
Initially, I am without a particular route in mind. When this happens, I usually default to a 5.5 mile route through downtown Nashville and back to my apartment. It’s not much, but it’ll do.
As I walk out my apartment door, my AirPods decide not to connect to my phone. I resort to my 3 year old, wireless Beats Pros. One of the constants in my life through the years. My Beats Pros.
I ease into the jog. Down the hill in front of my apartment. I head towards Downtown and dodge the onslaught of bachelorette parties wearing fluorescent pink cowboy hats, screen printed tank tops with corny phrases, matching denim shorts, and freshly purchased cowboy boots.
A few minutes in to the run, I reach the meditative state I’m forever chasing.
Through midtown. Traversing the city sidewalks. Through the memorial grounds situated parallel to Broadway and over the Bridge that connects downtown to East Nashville where Nissan Stadium sits.
Stale beer, street cart hot dogs, and the smell of cigarette smoke from Broadway play tricks on my brain as I break into a sweat.
I cross the bridge and hang a right hand turn. Still locked into my intended route. Still feeling good. Still bumping the ubiquitous “This is Drake” playlist in my Beats Pros.
Onward, I go.
As I surpass the most difficult and boring part of the run, I slip more deeply into the zen-like trance that makes long distance running worth doing.
I finally begin to approach the halfway point to my run. A sense of relief. “All I have to do is exactly what I just did, once more” I think to myself.
Until, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of three large brown dogs off in the distance. They’re running together in a pack and, from what I can tell, they’re unaccompanied by an owner. “Certainly, these large dogs wouldn’t be galavanting about town without someone nearby to claim them, would they?” I ask myself. About 75 yards off in the distance, the dogs turn and notice me. My body tenses and my senses heighten. Before I know it, the 3 large beasts begin to move quickly and deliberately towards me.
At once, I’m faced with a decision: Do I turn and run away? Or, do I stand my ground in hopes that they are domesticated and people friendly? I’d love to heroically claim that I consciously made the decision to stand my ground. But, the dogs move so quickly that the decision was made for me.
Now, standing before me, the 3 large, un-collared and unaccompanied pit bulls.
“Holy shit.” I think to myself. “What the hell am I going to do if these dogs are pissed off? I physically struggle to put socks on when my wet feet. There’s no way I can defend myself if they decide to attack me.”
Disclaimer: I’ve never been a fan of dogs. I know, I know. What kind of weirdo doesn’t like dogs? I’ve heard it a million times before. And, I wish it weren’t true. But, it is. Before you try to bestow your moral wisdom upon me about how dogs are man’s best friends and I must be a psychopath for disliking them, hear me out. I wasn’t raised with dogs and I’ve heard enough stories of dogs lashing out at humans to be comfortable with my decision to keep dogs at a safe distance. Just a few months ago, my buddy was attacked by his German Shepherd that he’s had for 8 years. He’s a cop and she’s been trained in accordance with standard police dog protocol. He spent a day in the hospital getting shots and being monitored for prolonged damage from the bites. Alone, that story is enough to support my canine skepticism.
Now, back to the story.
The dogs stop in front of me. They crouch down on their hind legs and they flash their teeth. I’m not an animal expert but I don’t believe that is the universally accepted gesture that a dog wants to be pet. Growling and flashing their razor sharp pearly whites, they stand in the stance for the longest 5 seconds I've ever endured in my 28 year long dog-avoiding life.
As the thoughts begin to race through my mind, I decide to pray. I’m not religious, but, at this point, I stand without sufficient alternatives. I pray for someone to come and rescue me. Anyone. No one ever comes.
I swivel my head in every way until I spot a woman standing on the front porch of her dilapidated, baby blue trailer seemingly spectating my potential and eventual demise.
“Are these your dogs?” I scream.
“No!” she yells. “I just saw them running around out here so I came out to see what was going on.”
“Well, is there anything you can do to get them away from me?” I yell.
As we correspond with each other, something in the distance catches the pack's attention.
The dogs yield their interest to something going on in the rear of the lady’s house. Relieved but still shaking with terror, I stand and talk to the woman on the porch for a moment. I ask her what she thinks we should do about the three full grown and ferocious pit bulls roaming the street. She doesn’t have any suggestions. I think about calling the cops. Then, as shitty as it sounds, I decide it really isn’t my problem. I watch the three dogs for a moment as they survey the exterior of the woman’s house. I decide that before they have the chance to re-establish their interest in me, I’m getting the hell out of there.
I turn around, disregard the halfway point I originally identified for my run, and start sprinting back towards the city.
Happy to live another day, with all of my limbs intact, I make it back to my apartment. Alive and able to speak about it.
As adrenaline continues to course through my veins, I sit on my couch and reflect on my fortune.
I think about how embarrassing it would be to be labeled as the guy who was mauled to death on a Sunday afternoon jog in one of the nation’s largest metropolitan cities during broad daylight.
Then, I think about the weekend I just had with some of my best childhood friends. Everyone taking different steps in different directions at a different pace.
And, about how I nearly became puppy chow.
Not the most gentle reminder that life doesn’t always go as planned. A reminder, nonetheless.
