Blitzkrieg style

Weeks ago there was some personal turmoil that really got to the bottom of me. When people say things about you that expand on the truth to make a hurricane out of a drizzle with the intent of damaging your reputation, it can be a frustrating ordeal.

It's become apparent that when you stick around in a place for long enough and get to know enough people, shit is going to go down. I'd even go as far to say that if it doesn't, you haven't really been living. You can't make headway without - purposefully or not - losing touch, falling short, or breaking hearts. There's just not enough time in the day to make sure everybody is happy. Sometimes you need to cultivate your own happiness.

At this point, though, it's like throwing stones at a tank anyway. We're on a roll, blitzkrieg style.

Still, I needed some space to figure out what I was doing with myself. It was one of those first nice weeks in Winnipeg after the snow has left, the streets have dried up, and it's finally agreeable to be outside again without goose-down armor plating.

I biked up a hill, sat, and watched the rest of world enjoy itself. Bikes, blades, boards, talking, gossiping, making plans for the coming summer, running - the sound of shoes slapping pavement is one my favorites (along with rain on a tin roof, the rapid clicking of a ratchet, and loons at nighttime).

In the distance in a park across the way there was a guy playing fetch with his dog. It looked like a Husky-Labrador cross, or something of the sorts - the kind of dog I will invariably own, befriend, and trust my life to one day. I have long had an adoration for big dogs.

I watched as he tossed a tennis ball and the dog ran like hell was chasing him and dutifully brought the ball back so he could go for another round. Then the owner tossed the ball when the dog wasn't looking. He stood there pointing across the field to where the ball at gone and although I couldn't hear what he was saying I'm pretty sure it would've been word-for-word: "Go get it!", spoken with excitement, several times.

"Go get it! It's over there! Go get it!"

The dog paced back and forth, wagging his tail, hopping up and down, probably thinking something along the lines of, Pleasepleaseplease, Jesus, just throw it already, pleasepleaseplease, completely unaware that it was already gone.

I've seen this happen many times with many dogs and it's absolutely amusing. I wonder, though, how many times we get thrown a ball when we're not looking and stand there waiting for someone to do something for us when it's already been done.

Maybe worse, though, is the times we chase a ball that's not even there.