Mr. Hamilton

I thought it was Aaron and his dog Jack coming down the path. So when the dogs ran back up the hill I thought nothing of it. But it wasn’t Aaron and Jack. It was some other guy with khaki pants and a stainless steel coffee mug/thermos. His khaki pants had the muddy print of Mr. Hamilton’s paws.

He put his hand out to keep Mr. Hamilton from jumping up again.

“Hamilton” I said as I bent to corral the muddy curly floppy mess that was the 10 month old golden doodle Mr. Hamilton. He looked more like a Muppet than a dog really.

“I’m sorry about that” I said. I felt guilty for what Hamilton had done and for what I had failed to do.

“It isn’t what I expected” said the man. I could sense his disdain.

“I’m sorry” I said again, “I’ll pay to have them cleaned.”

“No” he said “what’s done is done. But I’m quite sure there is an ordinance that they are supposed to be on a leash.” It seemed like he was going to say “and the next time I see them they had better be or I’ll make a report.” But he didn’t say that. He didn’t get a chance to because I said “And I’m quite sure there isn’t an ordinance.”

“May I get your name?’ he said. I’m ‘Michael Hellion.”

“I’m Fiona Woods and I really am sorry about what happened.”

He turned to walk on and I ushered the dogs back up the hill away from the encounter.

I imagined him thinking “fat bitch, can’t even control her dogs. They are probably all she has. I’m going to check on that ordinance.”

And I thought, “Fucking interloper, with your stainless steel cup, khaki pants and rust colored sweater with a Prince Valiant haircut and pasty white face. I’ve walked in these woods every fucking day for the last four months. And I’ve never seen you. These dogs have more claim to these woods than you do. Interloper!

I thought, “If a bird took a dump on your head or on your precious khaki pants would it have been what you expected?”

Michael Hellion. What a name. Mr. Hamilton was the hellion. I need to work on him. He can’t just jump up on people like that.