Saturday Saturday

I headed to the supermarket, first up. I had to buy coffee and ciabatta, bread and juice. And butter for the crusty bread. I tried to claim supermarket credits, as I like to do, from Sam, but he just laughed at me, as though I had more chance of walking on the moon, or winning 50 million on Tuesday. But what about my numerous solo trips to the supermarket these last few weekends, Saturday and Sunday mornings? What about those? They must count for something? He just waved his hand in front of him, between he and I. He laughed as thought the discussion was over.

It is true, so often when we go to the supermarket at night, I wait outside holding Buddy as Sam goes into the shop and buys the supplies. He goes to the supermarket more than I, he knew it and I knew it.

“Off you go,” he said.

Sam cancelled his appointment with Doctor Jimmy first thing. Yes, he is still having trouble with the wart on his heal. It is still sore. It doesn’t seem to be getting any better. He didn’t feel like going, which is very unusual for him, he is always so duty bound. He is going to go and see a podiatrist. As I said to him, people need to take their medical treatment in hand and be proactive about it. If the doctor you are seeing doesn’t seem to be getting the job done, go see someone else. It is not really good enough to say later that the doctor let you down. No, take responsibility for your own health.

We walked down to Victoria Street and ate Pho. I said to Sam that I knew it sounded boring, the same old meal every Saturday, but I love Pho. There is something nourishing and warming about it. It is big and hearty. It is tasty and filling. It is simple and wonderful all at the same time.

We shopped afterwards. If pho is our Saturday lunch, pork belly is out Saturday evening meal. There is something comforting with the rich, dark, strong taste of pork belly. I love it.

Victoria Street is vibrant and busy and interesting and alive. The sun is shining, the sky is blue. We walk. We walk to Victoria Street, we walk home. I run across Hoddle Street. Sam struggles with J walking, he needs red lights and green men to negotiate the roads. We are very democratic with the shopping bags, each of us feel the weight and we distribute it amongst ourselves evenly.

It is nice, I like the weekly walk to Victoria Street.

God there are some toothless losers in the world.

We took Buddy down to the dog park. He ran around the perimeter of the park and then he ran into the middle of the oval to where three Labrador kind of dogs were. Buddy ran in between them and immediately the owner of the more wolfy looking black dog started to say, 

“Don’t you. Don’t you. Don’t you dare,” to his dog. He then grabbed for him. His dog, as was clearly expected by his owner, bared his teeth and growled and then snapped at Buddy. I grabbed Buddy and took him away.

We walked off and I released Buddy when we were some metres away from the group of dogs. However, Buddy, as is a bulldog’s want, did a big circle and doubled back to the group of dogs, of course. They are tough little dogs, bulldogs, they are not frightened of much. If he is true of all bulldogs, they don’t shy away from any of the mean dogs. They seem to be attracted to dogs who are a challenge. They have a have an undefeatable confidence that they aren’t afraid of the tough guy in the playground. He always takes it, in a sense, in his stride and just bulldozers on his way. He never gets perturbed by another dog snapping at him. Brave, I don’t know.

He headed straight back to black wolf and his two labro buddies. We had only just got there and Buddy is always full of enthusiasm when we get there, he just wanted to play, roughhouse, bounce about with K9 buddies. I ran after him and tried to head him off, but sometimes he is a greased pig when it comes to grabbing hold of him. 

Again, the dopey husband said, “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare! No! No!”

The black wolf bared its fangs, he had huge white teeth, and he snapped at Buddy, as his owner grabbed him and I grabbed Buddy, as Sam put his lead on Buddy and led him away.

I turned back to look at the owner. I had to say something. What is it that they say, badness flourishes when the good say nothing... or something.

“If your dog is going to bite other dogs he doesn’t belong here and you need to take him home.”

“Take your dog away,” piped up the toothless hag wife ... spitefully. You know, the best form of defense is offence. .

“I’m sorry,” I replied.

“It is your dog’s fault.”

“My dogs fault?”

“Yes, your dog…” she insisted.

You know how the stupid argue, like it is word association.

“Your dog bit mine.”

“Did it?”

“Yes.”

“Everybody was fine until your dog came along.”

“Your dog was the aggressive one.”

“Was it?”

“Yes.”

“Your dog caused it.”

“My dog? It was your dog that bit my dog.”

“Bit your dog?”

“Yes.”

“Bit your dog?”

“Well, bared his teeth and snapped at my dog.”

“So, he didn’t bite your dog?”

The stupid just keep talking, instant response to everything.

“It was your dog that was being aggressive.”

“You dog caused it.”

“It is your dog that is being aggressive.”

“Really? In what way? I didn’t see it.”

“What?” It was arguing with a rather stupid five year old?

“Don’t waste your breath,” said a nice lady with a Chow.

“Take your dog away.”

“Take your dog home, if it is going to bite other dogs.”

“It is not you, it is them,” said the nice Chow lady. She shook her head.

Dog park trash, how sad.

“Oh, why don’t you post it on Twitter and Facebook then,” called the idiot woman.

“What?” The stupid hag thought she was being very clever. If it wasn’t so sad, it may well have been funny. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

I wanted to leave, but we didn’t. Sam kept Buddy on his lead until we had got far enough away from The Gruesomes. And then not long after we saw Stupid and Creepella leading Wolfy to the gate and they left.

Maybe something I said, actually, sank into their welfare brains.

They left not long after. I, actually, wish I’d taken my phone out of my pocket and started taking photos, maybe telling them that I wanted to use them when I went to the council. I bet you that would have got Stupidity going.

I’m not going to keep quiet about aggressive dogs any more, not since that other dog attacked Buddy a few months ago.

We came home as it was getting dark. I love that idea of driving into the back yard at dusk. The roller door slides open and the dark door filled space becomes a light filled oblong, like a huge picture window, letting the world in and the light expand.

We ate porkbelly for dinner. It is lovely the way Sam does it. He served the pork belly with boiled eggs. He served bok choi with shrimp.

We watched 17 Again. I’m kind of keen, as Zav Efron is, just about, the perfect male. Of course, this movie is a little old and he is a bit more like a kid, than the man he is today, but who cares.

I light the fire. The night was cool. We set up both our laptops on the coffee table.

Sam thinks 17 Again was rubbish, so he dons his headphones and looks at his computer. The he wants me to look at Playstation4. I tell him that I have no idea what a PlayStation is, 1, 2, 3 or 4. I have never used one, I have never played one, it would mean nothing to me. It is just not my thing.

“Look and don’t be rude, he says, “It is exciting.”

“No!”

“Look!”

“No!”

I must be a great disappointment to him.

Hey Christian, I had a beautiful dream with you in it the other night. We were walking down X Street towards Gertrude Street holding hands, and looking at the house. The front bedroom was messy, but I was not living there so it was not my mess for a change and we were laughing. It was lovely. There was also something about Jill being in South Melbourne? Anyway. Missing you. Having a great time in London. Got offered a job this week that I have accepted. Fantastic that I don't start until the 22nd July. Hugs to you, Sam and Bdy. Love Shane xx