I was out for a shuffle and realized that sometimes, you just don’t see it coming.

It was early Monday morning when I headed out the door dressed in my shuffle shorts, shoes, and shirt.  That’s a lot of S’s at a time when the only ‘S’ I really wanted was sleep. Shortly into my shuffle I encountered a man with two bulldogs and each was on a leash.  He was the only person I saw during the entire shuffle, which was good.  That meant I didn’t have to bob and weave around cyclists, walkers, or runners or engage in any social interaction.  Yes, I’m an introvert-even when I shuffle.

Things were going along smoothly when I reached my turnaround point and headed back home.  As I got closer to the end of my route I stared down the clear path and felt happy that the shuffle was almost over. But then out of the blue, he reappeared from a driveway-the man with the two bulldogs, each on a leash.  He and the dogs were standing off to the side of the sidewalk looking in my direction.  As I got closer, maybe two cracks away-you know, the ones you’re not supposed to step on because you’ll break your mother’s back-the man bent down and released the leash from one of his bulldogs. In a split second, my path was no longer clear. That damn dog ran over between my feet and slowed my shuffle to a stumble. I was a stumbling shuffler. Luckily, I still have some cat-like prowess because that’s what saved me from being a skinned hands and knee shuffler or worse.

As I dealt with what I didn’t see coming, I could hear the man with two leashes, one of which was dogless, saying “Willy, come here Willy.” Actually, I shouldn’t even use the word, ‘saying’ because it was more like a murmur-like he was afraid he’d wake the neighborhood by yelling at frickin Willy. Meanwhile, I’m stumbling around like a drunken gymnast trying to get Willy the hell out of my way.  After regaining my composure, I paused and restarted the shuffle, and so did Willy. Again, after a few more shuffles, I stopped, and so did Willy. We did the start-stop shuffle a few more times until the man with two leashes and one bulldog finally got hold of Willy.  “Sorry about that,” said the man. I said nothing because I’m an introvert. Instead, I restarted my shuffle and looked towards the clear path home. Sometimes, life throws you a Willy and you just have to deal with it.

Here’s to more clear paths and fewer Willys!

Cheers,

Eliza G.