So I was walkin’ down the street…


There I was, walking my beloved Mia dog for a walk on a recent sunny beautiful Tuesday afternoon. We were minding our own business, loving life, soaking up the sun –she (Mia) sniffing everything in sight, me (Jodie) texting my daughters and/or playing Words With Friends — when I saw our ‘neighbor’ approaching us. (I use the term ‘neighbor’ loosely, as she’s never been in my home, but I know she lives in the ‘hood. We’re cordial. We say hello to one another, nod, wave, blah, blah, blah.)

Said neighbor is approximately 70 years of age (on a good day), tall of stature, hefty-ish (I’m being kind).

Okay. So I look up from having probably just scored a Triple Word/Triple Letter on the word ‘zebra’ (against Mom or Sis), or something equally magnificent, and I look up and see her and her yippy foo-foo dog approaching. (I have nothing at all against yippy foo-foo dogs, Friends. Honest!)

So she and her yippy foo-foo dog cross the street, obviously purposely heading in my and my dear, sweet 13-year-old Labrador Retriever’s direction.

Mia, being the loving, friendly-to-people dog that she is, starts wagging her tail, coyly tucking under her buttocks (as she is wont to do when she is in anticipation of lavish demonstrations of admiration, affection and kind words), and batting those big brown beautiful eyes — to which God has so adroitly applied dramatic, stunning, exquisite eyeliner!

(Okay. So Mia’s got a few lipomas (fatty tumors), some way larger than others, and she’s moving kinda slowly, and she’s sorta gray, and her fur is a bit funky and patchy, and she’s lost a little tone in her sphincter muscles. Okay? Who among us hasn’t? Huh?)

And here’s the conversation that ensued:

‘NEIGHBOR’: Oh, My GODDDD! You horribly decrepit, disgusting, miserable looking old thing! What are you doing out here?”

She! Said! That! To Mia, not me. Cross my heart.

To which I replied:

JODIE: “How dare you say that! She is 91 years old in people years! She has a GREAT quality of life, thank you very much. She takes two walks a day.

She swims!

She takes car rides!

And she stops to smell the roses (or California poppies)!

She lives each day to the fullest, happily and contentedly! And she still has the same beautiful face and sweet, loving disposition that she had when she was younger (like age 70). And she would NEVER ever think, much less say (bark), the kind of cruel things you just said!”

Okay. I didn’t actually say that, but I sure as heck was thinking it…

(In actuality, Mia and I were both shocked and very hurt. We quickly distanced ourselves from her, continued along our merry way and had one of the most enjoyable walks of our 13-year-old history together.)



7 Responses to So I was walkin’ down the street…
  1. Marlene
    May 5, 2012 | 12:16 pm

    Unreal. Mia has the best mom…

  2. Diane Bertsch
    May 5, 2012 | 1:20 pm

    Some people are just morons.

  3. claudia scott
    May 5, 2012 | 3:18 pm

    awww.. sweet story! Just FYI it was not me you played the big points on….

    • jodie
      May 12, 2012 | 8:51 am

      Okay…maybe not on that particular play. :)

  4. Julia Myers
    May 5, 2012 | 5:28 pm

    awww mia baby! makin’ me cry.

  5. Janet
    May 6, 2012 | 8:40 am


    In need of a better description of the cruel woman!

    She obviously does not watch Ellen who reminds us each day to be KIND to one another.

    Take care, Janet

  6. julie
    May 7, 2012 | 8:25 am

    Some people are just plain ignorant and have no sensitivity. Mia is lucky to have you as her mommy!!!

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About Me

It's true! Despite playing defense virtually all my life against the onslaught of this sometimes-ugly aging process, it...has...arrived! I naively thought I would escape cellulite (the Cottage Cheese) and crow's feet (the Crepe Paper). But I didn't! And why didn't anyone tell me about this emotional roller-coaster that comes with being an Empty-Nester?! My name is Jodie Barringer Myers. I'm a 54-year-old Friday/chardonnay/ hydrangea-loving wife/mom/court reporter living in Sacramento (Gold River!), California. Writing is cathartic for me. And because I look to find humor and humility among the rubble that is my now very peri-menopausal self, I'm hopeful that you will laugh, cry, learn, enjoy and, most of all, relate to what I have to say. After all, we're all in this together, right?

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