Today was the first day where I really felt I could make a living freelancing.  I received my first copywriting job, which is great.  Everyone says copywriting is where the money is at.  Of course, I’m in it for the love of writing, but I also would like to survive.  I found the job on Elance — a social-media site for freelancers.  It’s super professional, and I was starting to doubt the benefit of such a site, until I received that e-mail.  I will keep at it.

So in order to decompress from the day, I took Hendrix, my dog, to the dog park.  The strangest thing happened when I walked up to the beach.  A man and wife were holding their pack of huskies on leashes.  Then another small dog ran up to the pack of huskies, and the huskies started to attack the dog.  It was devastating.

The owner of the smaller dog ran over from the other side of the beach, screaming, “Get off my dog.  Get off my dog.”  

When they pulled the huskies off the dog, one of the huskies had blood on its mouth.  Then one of the other dogs bit the woman.  Everyone was screaming, and Hendrix and I just stood back and tried to stay out of it.  I mean, everything had subsided, but they were yelling at each other.  It was a real mess.

It was a strange scenario.  The huskies were on a leash, and the other dog wasn’t.   I don’t know who is at fault, but, surely, the huskies shouldn’t have been there.  I’m sure they’re great dogs, but it’s crazy how some animals act when they get in a pack.  (If Heron is reading this, then she’s going to freak out.  But, babe, it’s cool.)

When the huskies left, I let Hendrix off the leash, and he ran down to the beach.  Well — you’re never going to believe this — after I put my stuff down, I saw some guy hitting Hendrix with a chair.  Oh lord, I was about to lose my shit.

I walked straight up to the man, and I said, “Are you hitting my dog?”

“He peed on my chair,” the man said.  He was older, and he was with his wife.  I would say about 50.

I walked straight up to him and said, ” Don’t you ever hit my dog.”

“He peed on my chair,” he said again.

As I approached, I could see he was scared.  I remained calm, knowing I wasn’t going to start a fight.  He started to back up, and his tone changed.  He sort of sounded like pouring a glass of milk into a tall glass.

“That is unacceptable,” I said.  I was real close, and I stuck out my hand.  “Shake it,” I said.

“I’m sorry.”

“Never hit my dog again,” I said.  “Shake it.”

And then we shook hands.  I didn’t want to be one of those people on the dog beach, screaming at each other.  I just wanted him to apologize, and then we would move on.  He didn’t hit Hendrix that hard.  But still, who hits a freaking dog with a chair?

Dog parks are really places where we exhibit our personality disorders.  Problems hardly ever arise about the dog.  It’s often about the different approaches we have to life; it’s often about who doesn’t want their dog to be humped or sniffed; it’s often about how we feel internally and project onto our pets.

Well, I spent the rest of the time throwing the ball to Hendrix.  He’s learning to swim.  Every time, however, when he grabs the ball in the water, he runs back and rolls around in the sand.  I don’t know why he has to make things so difficult.  Everyone always laughs at me, knowing I have to clean him up.

So I thought I would share that story.  I had some good meetings today, and I might be able to pick up some more work.  It’s good to put yourself out there and feel like people are responding.  Tomorrow I’ll be back at Berth 55 to interview the owner.  It’s a shame they’re closing.  Oh yeah, I started revising my book to see how it would feel.  One more thing, tomorrow is my birthday.  Well, actually, it’s today now.

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