There's no accounting for taste. It's the least of my concerns though. Walking Angus has been a challenge since he realized he was big enough to pull. Reactive and pully, that's Angus on a leash. After a year and half of that training struggle a rescue volunteer at a local shelter recommended a harness for walking. And not just any harness. This thing is the holy grail of harnesses. This thing removed all the fear reactions and pulling from our walks. So much so I look forward to taking him out for a few miles of neighborhooding. We walk 83rd Avenue toward the bank on the corner. There's three police cruisers, and five police officers and an SUV parked on the curb, in the turn lane on our side. Any other day, I'd avoid this scenario. Lights, radios, people gathered. Not now. The harness of epicness makes me as confident as Angus. We walk alongside the policing event. Two officers are waiting at the trunk of a cruiser. Not at all tense. "That's a good looking dog you have." "Thank you. His name is Angus." He points to my Sweetwater T shirt advertising all things guitar, "Like the musician?" "Yup!" He nods and we continue our walk. A young guy walks up to us, relaxed and not really interested in meeting Angus, but definitely interested in seeing him. "Wow. He's part horse, huh?" "We call him Stupid Pony for a reason. Angus is hilarious." "He's a cool dog." We walk on MLK, across from a large shopping center. Heavy traffic, horns, engines, people crossing blinky lighted cross walks. Voices, buzzes and the like. It used to be a curse to attempt. Now with his harness, he walks proud and confident. A speeding hover round carrying a highly energized woman comes barreling toward him exclaiming, "What a beautiful dog! Can I say hello?" Her smile is a big as her chair is heavy, and her voice is as rapid as the mph she's pulling with that thing. I ask Angus to sit. He does. I step between Angus and the oncoming woman on wheels. I see Angus' stress level going up via his eyebrows. "Wait. He's never seen one of these hover rounds, slow down." "OH! Well I can walk." She jumps out of this motorized thing and moves quickly to Angus, hand out. She has the top of her hand showing for him to sniff. She thinks this is some sort of good idea. "Wait. Slow down. Talk to me first, okay? I'm working his training." "Oh sure! I have a golden with some catahoula in him, he's catahoula isn't he?" Angus hasn't left his stress behind yet. And I'm not going to ask him to absorb hers. I invade her personal space forcing her to step back one step. "Yup, he's a catty. He's a good boy. His name is Angus. You'll have to say hello and wait to see if he wants to visit." She seems agreeable enough, and I step aside a bit allowing Angus to decide what option he'd like. She extends her hand again, and he smells it. He looks past her to the hover round, then up to me. "It's okay Bangus. You can say hello." He stands now, and takes two steps to her and accepts a head petting. "Wow he's pretty." Angus agrees and wags his tail. She jumps back on her red hover round and thanks him for his time and says good bye to me. This couldn't have happened a month ago. And this couldn't have happened without this harness of epicness. We walk further. A bike comes from behind, the rider zooms past us. Angus doesn't notice or care. A jogger approaches from afar, on our sidewalk. Angus takes note, and decides she's not worth his effort. "He's a pretty dog." She says as she passes. Angus looks over his shoulder to watch her progress away from us. A man walks past us now, pauses to compliment Angus and his leash etiquette. "What a great dog!" We walk. We walk happily, the leash draped in my hand relaxed. Angus is nose to ground now. We're in front of the retirement condo village. Roughly 453 yorkie terriers and shih tzu pee in this area. He is identifying species. His nose is on, his brain is off. And I'm far too relaxed. He lunges slightly forward and gobbles up some godawful looking mass of some thing that tickles my gag reflex. Too fast, too late, and he's already working it. There's discarded napkins nearby. My hope is the lawn crew carelessly left lunch pieces behind. The question is how old, and what comes next? There is no accounting for taste. Today is day two of Angus borfering randomly and soft serve ice creaming instead of pooping. His attitude, food and water intake are all intact. His digestion is simply letting him know he sucks. But this harness, this harness does not suck. Every dog person should have this harness. He is happier when wearing it. He loves putting it on. He loves his walks. And because of this, Angus is more socialized successfully on every single walk. I love this harness. I am not loving what is coming out of Angus' butt though.
