If you want to know where some of the biggest, rudest jackasses in Seattle were this morning I can say for sure they rode bikes to 2nd Avenue and then parked them in the one and only handicapped spot in the lot.
There’s something truly vile about a bunch of able bodied people parking their bikes- which they ride because they want to save the planet-in a spot designated for handicapped people.
Disgraceful and shameful doesn’t even BEGIN to cover it.
The fires are burning in Central Washington but as anyone in the Seattle area will be glad to tell you, the air is full of ash and it’s all over the cars ( hey it’s also in our lungs but it’s all about priorities I guess ).
My dog, Hamish Macbeth, made no effort to ask to go out this morning(!) and when we did get out he spent most of his time asking to walk under trees and next to bushes and if he had to jump up a four foot wall to get near them, he did.
He didn’t want to be out in the open and he made that very clear to me.
I didn’t get why he was acting a bit strange because it was dark and I couldn’t see how much smoke and ash was in the air.
Because I followed Hamish Macbeth, I didn’t smell the smoke and we were covered by trees for most of our walk so for awhile I got to avoid the ash.
Lesson here is: listen to your dog when they insist on something.
When the Sun came up, we could see the Sun and the sky was/still is a weird orange color.
I think my dog, Hamish Macbeth is pretty darn amazing.
He can open and close doors, he can work the deadbolt, he knows the names for his toys, ” ball, treat toy, toy, frisbee”- so he’ll bring you the one you ask for.
He does great off leash work and he is that perfect mix of sweet and willful.
I think if he could, he’d walk around whistling or singing.
He has that kind of personality.
Recently, we learned to use the slide at our neighborhood playfield to launch his tennis balls from- he thinks it’s great. I have to wait for him to roll them down and I get to fetch them.
It took me awhile to get him used to going up there and not launching himself off after a minute or two. He decided it was a cool place to be because if he didn’t feel like coming down there was no way for me to make him.
When he learned he could send things rolling down the slide, it was a good day to be Hamish Macbeth.
Recently Hamish turned three years old and I’m not sure what happened but all of the sudden I started to feel like I had shorted Hamish.
I don’t show Hamish- he comes from a line of show dogs and it shows in ways- he’s bright, focused and a bit of a comedian- he also reads people with his Ninja like radar.
All of the sudden I wanted Hamish to have ribbons and titles. I wanted to stand in a ring with him and have everyone know what a great dog he is.
The thing of it is, I don’t have the time to show him and I like our approach to learning new skills- it’s all for fun and if he doesn’t get it right away I honestly don’t mind.
He always learns in the end and he gets to do it at his own pace.
I told a friend that I was going to buy him a blue collar and leash and retire his pink leash and collar that he’s been wearing for most of his life.
Pink is my favorite color and he’s a chocolate lab with just a tinge of gold to his coat that I can’t seem to capture on camera, so the pink looks really stunning on him.
My friend pointed out that Pink is Hamish’s trademark and why am I giving that up?
Because I can’t help him win ribbons or titles and that’s as close as we’ll ever get to it I said.
” But he’s a great dog Anita.”
I know that.
But is that enough I wondered?
That evening I was in bed reading a book and Hamish jumped up beside me and laid down next to me.
Hamish put his head on my should and looked at me with the most adoring puppy dog eyes I have ever seen in my life.
Hamish sighed and then he snuggled into my shoulder.
Then he lifted his head up and tried with determination and his version of laughing, to stick his tongue up my nose.
Last Monday I went into my favorite little coffee shop to pick up my favorites breakfast food: Quiche and Lemon Flavored ( on a good day there’s Mango flavored ) Greek Style Yogurt.
Something pretty interesting was happening.
They were filming a commercial- at least I think it was a commercial.
They had the equipment set up around a table and in the middle of the table was a coffee cup.
The table top had been polished and shined- it was beautiful, like something out of a picture.
I went up to the counter and as I waited my turn in line ( because the normal staff wasn’t there and the people working behind the counter, though competent and pleasant they fumbled around a bit ) I had time to look around the crowded room.
I noticed that not only had the table under the lights been shined and made beautiful ( it wasn’t the regular table ) so had the customers.
Each table had a very earnest looking millennial wearing white or gray with a lap top opened in front of them. Need I mention they were attractive too?
One young woman in a knee length gray dress stood at a table in a classic model’s pose- slightly bent arm, hip out, chin up. She didn’t move a muscle the entire time.
None of the people I would normally see were there that morning, it was like they had all been replaced with perfect versions of what a person on their way to work in the morning looks like.
Gone were the bus drivers, the street cleaners, the office workers, the warehouse workers ( ahem ) the dog walkers- in our places were for the most part the vision what a Seattle resident on their way to work looks like- under 30, white and perfectly groomed.
I get it, this film was telling a story- but I think the real story didn’t need repair. For the most part it’s a nice blue collar place. That’s why I like it so much.
After a minute of looking around I got nervous. I didn’t care when the cashier mangled my quiche a bit because he didn’t seem to be comfortable with handling the tongs when he tried to pick it up from the tray.
I was busy being creeped out because I knew, in that exact moment that imperfect people like me, the ones who participate everyday in life are consider poor ‘representations’ when the story, no matter how small of a story is being told.
I felt like the young woman in the Twilight Zone Episode ” Number 12 Looks Just Like You.” In her world, everyone looks the same and everyone thinks the same and they are all beautiful.
It’s a shame that I didn’t stick around to see how they filmed their story, because it’s an interesting process.
I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I had been been plucked out of existence, that the people I know had been erased because in the story being told that morning- a story about energetic people starting their morning with a coffee and their laptops and their beautiful clothes and nicely styled hair- we did not exist.