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We grab a cookie from the Woofable Treats Café for Wilfred so he can say hello to his friends there. Prince Francis takes up residence on my shoulders while we’re at the doggy café, feeling safer from a high perch until we’re back on the street. Next we stop at the Cat-tastic Café for Prince Francis. Wilfred waits outside, staring dejectedly through the window while his new best buddy mingles with his feline friends.
We don’t stay for long, and then we’re on our way to the park. As usual, I get a few curious looks. I smile and ignore the people who don’t get it, cutting out the noise like Miles always tells me to.
We pass regular parkgoers, who stop and say hello, giving both Wilfred and Prince Francis pets and greetings. Wilfred sniffs everything he passes, stopping occasionally to lift his leg and leave a reminder that he was here, too. Whenever this happens, Prince Francis will plunk his butt down near my foot and groom himself.
I spot a group of teenage boys skateboarding along the path, doing jumps and spins, weaving in and out of dog walkers, scaring some of the smaller dogs. Before I have a chance to move off the path and get a better grip on Wilfred’s leash, they whirl toward us. At the same time, a gaggle of geese, who have presumably also been frightened by the skateboarders, come weeble-wobble running across the park about twenty-five feet away.
It’s the perfect storm.
The skateboarders pass by, only inches from us, causing Prince Francis to jump and scale my leg, his sharp nails digging into my skin. The shock of pain makes me lose my hold on Wilfred, who lunges at the skateboarders. I grab for him but trip over an uneven crack in the sidewalk. Instead of hugging him around the chest, I fall on top of poor Wilfred. My hand connects with the side of his head, and at the same time, I’m pretty sure I elbow Prince Francis.
The combination of the skateboarders, the geese, and the surprise of me falling on him has Wilfred yelping in what sounds like shock and pain. I push up and try to roll to the side while blindly searching for his leash. He headbutts me in the face as I grab his collar, which sends my glasses flying. Prince Francis, who is still clinging to my side, hurtles himself off me and lands on Wilfred’s back. Someone yells at me to stop hurting my dog. I’m too busy trying to get my feet back under me and keep my hold on Wilfred and Prince Francis to bother responding.
Wilfred yelps again and lurches forward, making a horrible gagging sound because I’m gripping his collar. He drags us into the middle of the gaggle of angry geese. They hiss and snap, and Prince Francis arches and hisses in return, swatting at the livid geese, who have surrounded us. Wilfred tries to buck Prince Francis off while I attempt to shoo the angry geese away. In the process, I lose my hold on Wilfred’s collar. All without my glasses. Which is the moment one of the geese nips Wilfred’s tail. And then he’s off, barking as he busts through the gaggle and races through the grass.
Prince Francis holds on until they run by a tree, and then he flies through the air like he’s channeling his inner Spider-Man and lands on the trunk of the tree. He scales the side and perches on a branch, sending a few squirrels down on the way. They chatter their displeasure and bounce off.
“Wilfred! Stop!” I shout, chasing after him as he continues to run, nearly knocking over a toddler bumbling between his parents. I’m thankful he didn’t try to use one of the geese as a chew toy. Eventually Wilfred must notice that he no longer has a passenger, at which point he runs in circles, barking anxiously, looking for his four-legged bestie.
I finally manage to get him to listen, and he returns to me, head down and eyes all sad, because he thinks he’s in trouble.
“It’s okay, Wilfred. It wasn’t your fault.” I grab his leash and give him a scratch behind the ear, thankful he’s no longer running around the park like a menace, scaring small children. I check his tail and make sure he’s not injured before I gently tug him in the direction of the tree. “Come on, let’s get Prince Francis.”
As we approach the tree, I realize I’ve garnered a lot of attention and that the skateboarders are no longer weaving through the dog walkers and morning strollers. Instead, they’re gathered with their phones in their hands. I shoot them a look and then go back to ignoring them.
I want to get out of here, but first I need to retrieve Prince Francis. I catch a few comments about not taking your pet out in public if you can’t control them. Another woman makes a comment about bad pet owners. I hear someone mention the Kitty Whisperer, and I want to hurl.
