A Man, A Dog & A Post

I saw something peculiar on my way out of the grocery store the other day. I had a few bags in my hand and I stopped just outside the door to check something on my phone. Suddenly there was a flurry of activity. A terrible noise pierced the relative silence (which is to say, as silent as it ever gets in a Los Angeles neighborhood). I looked up. A big dog, tied to this big post seemingly meant to dispense circulars for the store, was dragging it behind him as he bolted into the parking lot.

It was a hell of a thing. Moments later, a man came tearing out of the grocery store after the dog. He labored greatly to calm the dog and detach it from the post (which, obviously, was not mounted in any permanent fashion). I wondered at the man's failure to properly look after his dog. It seems like something he ought to have anticipated. This burst of energetic rebellion can hardly be out of the dog's character.

He began defending himself to a woman who expressed some mild concern, claiming he'd done it a thousand times and never had a problem. He offered other reasons why it was reasonable what he'd done, the proximity of his home to the store being among them. I'm not sure what that had to do with anything. This guy was not about to admit that his monster dog or he were remotely in the wrong, I could tell. I wasn't getting involved.

Nor was anyone employed by the store, evidently, although the dog had obviously damaged their property (scratching up the post and the sidewalk). I'm not sure exactly how the whole thing drew to a close. I'd seen enough, and was eager to get home to tend to my own affairs. I would have to encourage the man to leave his dog at home anytime he felt he might need to enter a store. Dogs can easily suffer and inflict suffering when left on their own.

George Carlin said that the only amount of time a dog understands is forever. Should that really be true, imagine the anguish of a dog that assumes it's been abandoned entirely out in front of a grocery store. Oughtn't it take all possible measures to free itself from its mooring and seek a more loving master? It's only doing what's in its nature. Then again, perhaps so is the man. Why should I expect better from him than what he shows me he's capable of?