I don’t expect the same quiet sacredness when later in the day I take my walk. Of course I will hear cars passing by. Although I won’t like it, at least I’ll anticipate the presences of leaf blowers as fall comes to New England.
What I will never anticipate is what happened this morning--a dog snapping at me from a passing red SUV as I walked along one of my favorite country roads. This little dog was watching and waiting, head sticking out the back window. I am still upset about it; my reptilian brain is still responding. Oh, I know it wasn’t personal, I know I’m not the only walker he/she snapped at, I know it is easier to control one’s children than one’s dog. I know all this because I have owned several little yipping dogs.
Although I also know I have to let go of this feeling of being attacked, I sure don’t have to like it. On a scale of one to ten, with ten being most offensive, there are many louder and more grating sounds than a yipping dog. So why is this one right up there as a ten? Because I was surprised and startled, and felt personally attacked. It has to do with context.