Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
A Dingo Almost Ate My Baby!
Saturday morning, we were feeling chipper after all three having such a delicious, uninterrupted night's rest (thank you, Kim West and Dr. Ferber!). The air outside was not too muggy and we were catching a break in the endless rain that has poured this whole month. Plus, we were out of coffee. All combined to a perfect excuse for going out to try a new coffee shop that has opened up in a nearby strip center.
We arrived to find just a few customers hanging out and plenty of open tables. As is our routine, Mama chose a spot and began to set-up Samson's special chair, while Daddy and The Boy went to the counter to order.
The choice of a table at any restaurant we frequent is based upon 4 factors, in this order of priority:
Eventually, a young (25ish) hipster guy sat down at the next table with his leashed, boxer buddy. We struck up a chat and learned that he had recently moved down from Cape Cod to join the Austin music scene. The dog was a well-mannered adoptee acquired from a policeman who was leaving town for extended training.
From out of no where, this other humongous dog bounded up to the boxer's table. This was an 90+ lb chocolate lab, not on a leash and still in possession of two giant testicles. Though labs are known to be friendly, this one quickly took the opportunity to challenge the boxer (who was neutered). The boxer was patient at first, but when the lab became more assertive and tried to get into first the face of the musician and then our faces, the boxer started to bark & lunge, and the musician was struggling to keep control of him to prevent a fang-filled brawl. Of course, no one was there to control the other dog... where in the heck was the owner of this dog?!
Finally, we see this 60ish looking, well-dressed man (he's wearing slacks, a button down, and dress shoes at 9am on Saturday morning) come waltzing across the parking lot from the bank 50 yards away. He doesn't seem in any sort of hurry, not the least bit worried about the fact that his large dog is off leash, snarling & barking, and about to attack the public. I shout, "Sir, is this your dog? Please come get your dog and put him on a leash!" The man keeps strolling toward the dog and the lab decides to lope off in the opposite direction.
At that point, we think, "Whew! That was weird!" and relax a bit. We start talking with the boxer guy again and before we know it, rabid brown dog is back! Here comes upper-crust- CEO-dude, again in no hurry, and I'm shouting, "Sir, please control your animal! He should be on a leash!" to which he replies, "I'm trying!"
Well, it didn't look like he was trying very hard.... Maybe he had some sort of physical ailment that prevented him from running, or something, but there is really no excuse for not having that dog on a leash!
Interestingly, Samson was completely calm during the whole scene; I guess he figured if we weren't worried, he shouldn't be, either.
When the incident began, Brian grabbed Samson and held him high between us, away from where the dogs were. Afterward, it occurred to us that the smartest thing to have done would have probably been to immediately go inside the coffee shop, but in the moment, we were sort of stunned, like "Where in the world did this other dog come from? If we try to leave our table, will he get more aggressive?" Of all the things we had prepared and educated ourselves about in order to protect Samson from harm, attacks by wild dogs in a suburban strip mall was not one.
Needless to say, the musician decided to take his dog, get in the car, and get out of there. We soon packed up, too.
Now we're wondering about whether to invest in some sort of canine repellent. Suggestions, anyone?
And I guess we need to add #5 to the restaurant table requirements list: shielded from vicious animal assaults.
We arrived to find just a few customers hanging out and plenty of open tables. As is our routine, Mama chose a spot and began to set-up Samson's special chair, while Daddy and The Boy went to the counter to order.
The choice of a table at any restaurant we frequent is based upon 4 factors, in this order of priority:
- Will the table be safe & stable with Samson's chair attached?
- Is there enough space so that parents' stuff will be accessible to them but not to baby?
- Are we positioned to be least annoying to everyone else if baby should have a meltdown and/or begin flinging slobbery objects or wet food?
- Are interesting faces, lights, fans, traffic, or other baby entertainments within view?
Eventually, a young (25ish) hipster guy sat down at the next table with his leashed, boxer buddy. We struck up a chat and learned that he had recently moved down from Cape Cod to join the Austin music scene. The dog was a well-mannered adoptee acquired from a policeman who was leaving town for extended training.
From out of no where, this other humongous dog bounded up to the boxer's table. This was an 90+ lb chocolate lab, not on a leash and still in possession of two giant testicles. Though labs are known to be friendly, this one quickly took the opportunity to challenge the boxer (who was neutered). The boxer was patient at first, but when the lab became more assertive and tried to get into first the face of the musician and then our faces, the boxer started to bark & lunge, and the musician was struggling to keep control of him to prevent a fang-filled brawl. Of course, no one was there to control the other dog... where in the heck was the owner of this dog?!
Finally, we see this 60ish looking, well-dressed man (he's wearing slacks, a button down, and dress shoes at 9am on Saturday morning) come waltzing across the parking lot from the bank 50 yards away. He doesn't seem in any sort of hurry, not the least bit worried about the fact that his large dog is off leash, snarling & barking, and about to attack the public. I shout, "Sir, is this your dog? Please come get your dog and put him on a leash!" The man keeps strolling toward the dog and the lab decides to lope off in the opposite direction.
At that point, we think, "Whew! That was weird!" and relax a bit. We start talking with the boxer guy again and before we know it, rabid brown dog is back! Here comes upper-crust- CEO-dude, again in no hurry, and I'm shouting, "Sir, please control your animal! He should be on a leash!" to which he replies, "I'm trying!"
Well, it didn't look like he was trying very hard.... Maybe he had some sort of physical ailment that prevented him from running, or something, but there is really no excuse for not having that dog on a leash!
Interestingly, Samson was completely calm during the whole scene; I guess he figured if we weren't worried, he shouldn't be, either.
When the incident began, Brian grabbed Samson and held him high between us, away from where the dogs were. Afterward, it occurred to us that the smartest thing to have done would have probably been to immediately go inside the coffee shop, but in the moment, we were sort of stunned, like "Where in the world did this other dog come from? If we try to leave our table, will he get more aggressive?" Of all the things we had prepared and educated ourselves about in order to protect Samson from harm, attacks by wild dogs in a suburban strip mall was not one.
Needless to say, the musician decided to take his dog, get in the car, and get out of there. We soon packed up, too.
Now we're wondering about whether to invest in some sort of canine repellent. Suggestions, anyone?
And I guess we need to add #5 to the restaurant table requirements list: shielded from vicious animal assaults.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Saturday, July 21, 2007
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