My Actifit Report Card: January 6 2022

I knocked it out of the park, walking well over 15 kilometres.

That was because I was very angry. Maybe I was waiting for something to trigger me after reading the usual hand wringing from the Melbourne Age about the Coronavirus demanding more ill-conceived knee jerk responses from a political class that has demonstrated an inability to lead or manage the people that they claim to represent. Or, maybe the universe had a little giggle at my recent promise to be kinder this year. In my defence, I did say that all bets were off if someone behaved like a goose.

The universe found a goose for me to interact with and it used my dog, Tara to introduce us. Tara is a rescue dog. We’ve invested a lot of time in training her to behave around other dogs. I walked her every day, armed with a pocket full of plastic bags to pick up her droppings as required by local bylaws. Tara likes to sniff her environment. She often pauses to sniff a patch of grass, a tree or the inevitable cliched fire hydrant.

True to form, she planted her feet and proceeded to investigate a rather insignificant patch of grass. I watched her carefully to see if she was preparing to do her business. It was clear to me that she wasn’t. Anyone who has owned a dog knows what I mean. Still, she sniffed with great interest. I let her be. It allowed me to churn over a couple of ideas I was working on. She wasn’t hurting anyone.

The next thing I knew, the door of the house we were in front of flew open and a rather scruffy but somewhat agitated man of indeterminate age came charging out. Not that, there’s anything wrong with scruffy, mind you. I feel at home with scruffy. Not so much with agitated, however.

“Don’t let your dog poop on my lawn!” He demanded.

I smiled, looked at the recently erected “For Lease” sign at the front of the property, then at Tara who had now assumed her regal serene seated pose and finally, at the unsoiled but unmown nature strip. There was a lot that I could have said. Usually, in these situations, I tend to walk away. I chose not to on this occasion. I’m not sure why. Maybe the man was so comical in his approach that I could not resist exploring this potentially entertaining encounter. “The dog has not shat on your lawn,” I said.

I’m not a particularly imposing figure, but something made him stop coming towards me. “It was getting ready to. I saw it through the window.”

“Really?” I looked at the nature strip again. I was tempted to point out that the nature strip was not his lawn, but the Councils. I kept my thought to myself.

“Yes, of course. It was sniffing the ground. Take it home. Have it do its business on your lawn - not mine.

By now, I’d worked out I was dealing with a goose. I informed him in no uncertain terms that Tara was not preparing to defecate and in any case, if she did I would be cleaning the mess up.

This assurance only seemed to incense the man. “Rubbish, you brought him here to do his business. I know your type.”

It was starting to get ridiculous and I’m not good in these situations. I whipped out one of the plastic bags stowed in my pocket. “What do you think this is?”It probably came out a little louder and stronger than what I’d planned.

We then went from the ridiculous to the patently absurd. I’m not sure if he jumped up and down but he got pretty excited. “You see, you planned it.” He was triumphant.

I should have laughed. I didn’t. I gestured towards his sacred piece of unkempt nature strip. “Please show me where my dog has shat on your nature strip.”

“He was going to. He’s holding it in.”

Then I said it. “Mate, you’re a goose.” That didn’t help.

He yelled at me and made some strange gestures. He composed himself a little and said, “I don’t want to fight you.”

How did we get there? Suddenly, I realised that I’d gotten quite angry. We stood looking at each other for a minute or so. Tara still sat serenely on the footpath perhaps contemplating chasing rabbits across a field somewhere. She showed no sign of needing to “make a deposit.”

Then, the man turned on his heel and retreated back indoors. I watched him go with a mixture of incredulity and slow burning rage. I may have muttered something about him resembling Richard Cranium.

Then I started to walk fast. By the time I’d gotten myself under control, I found that I’d walked further than I planned. That’s how I broke my actifit record.

This report was published via Actifit app (Android | iOS). Check out the original version here on actifit.io

Daily Activity, Walking