No Cause for Paranoia

T T T

No Cause for Paranoia

By: DevlinRyder

Perhaps the dog was a good idea: for a long time I could trick

myself into thinking that people were staring at the dog

instead of me. He is a nice dog, after all; a Cocker Spaniel,

brown with white spots. I call him Rusty even though

he's not quite rust colored. But then whenever he would

cock his leg up, on a bush or fire-hydrant, I would run cold

with embarrassment; standing there waiting, looking around

foolishly with my little creature peeing at the end of a

chain. Might I have easily walked around with a balloon on a

string? No, I have to present in public as some sick and

dominating bastard. Poor dog. I know what people were

thinking.

But anyway, due to an incident last week -- I should call

it the Final Straw -- I've given up dog-walking and going

for walks altogether. For I barely escaped the police!

That's right, the park police! Two of them chased me

through the woods for a short distance before I slyly

disappeared into a sewer. Luckily I had traversed those

sewers a million times when I was a kid and knew their

blueprints, so to speak. Within minutes I was able to make my

way through the trickling echoes and darkness back to an

opening in the creek near my house. I ran into my garage and

waited there panting for a long time wondering what time it

was, wondering how long it would be before my wife got home

from work.

Eventually I went into my bedroom and put on my pants.

And I think next time maybe I should wear them whenever I go

outside -- that is, whenever I feel safe enough to leave the

house again!