I had long given up on my dream of fame, but ironically, I became quite the celebrity wherever I went thanks to Pablo these days.
"Pablo, no! no! no!!! Bad boy! Bad boy!" I would yell as I held onto his harness, trying to stop him from barking and jumping at other dogs and humans. My hands were sore, my voice was hoarse, my nerves were tense, my heart was racing, and I was under a lot of stress. Pablo was loud, and so was I. Our voices could be heard miles away. People would restrain their own dogs and give me sympathetic looks as we approached. Some kind-hearted individuals would even tell me, "He's just trying to protect you." Yeah, right. A walk around the lake with Pablo was enough for everyone to know his name and for me to be known as the poor owner of the crazy dog.
Contrary to popular belief, dogs are supposed to consider humans as their masters, but Pablo clearly thinks we belong to him. For the past five months since we adopted him from the SPCA, he's still been a wild dog, doing whatever he wants and thinking in his little mind that we're just here to make him happy.
To be fair, he's okay at home, though he can be needy and jealous. The problem is outside. He goes crazy when he sees any other dog or some humans. We know that sometimes he just wants to play and other times he feels threatened, but we can't do anything about it. Because of the way he acts, everyone sees him as a crazy bully. Who would want their dog near him, let alone play with him?
We wanted a dog for comfort, relaxation, and companionship, but all we've gotten so far is walks, work, more work, and more walks. I frequently take him to the lake trails, and we've become a well-known pair among the trail walkers.
But the funny thing is, I've become well-known not because of my own achievements or work, but because of the little black dog, Pablo. Maybe "famous" isn't the right word. A more accurate term might be "notorious."
But who cares?
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