EE-I-EE-I Uh Oh!

My neighbors, the McDonalds, are neither old nor have a farm and I don't live on Barnum and Bailey Boulevard. However, my experiences with animals on my workout route make you wonder about the chemical content of the water around here.

It all started one morning with an attack on my neighbor (we'll call him Rodney) while he was riding his beach cruiser bike with the sassy front basket. Rodney's retired, walks with a cane, and has a hair style to rival an 80's rock band. Needless to say he's never lead the peloton through the French Alps of the subdivision, but hey, kudos to him for making an effort.

I spotted Rodney as he slowly criss-crossed his way up the hill I fondly call Everest, when out of a sparsely landscaped yard shot the ugliest black dog you've ever seen. This unsightly mongrel's shrunken head, minuscule ears, and shaggy tail made him look like the unfortunate by-product of canoodling between a border collie and a Halloween bat.

The callous canine concentrated his vicious assault on the strained ankle elastic of Rodney's 20 year old gray drawstring sweat pants. Poor Rodney began wobbling perilously, kicking his victimized leg, and shrieking at the dog. Wanting desperately to help, without compromising the chocolate chip granola bar in my pocket, I selfishly scaled back and bellowed repeatedly "GO RODNEY, GO! DON'T STOP!"

With Navy Seal strength and persistence he managed to shake the mangy varmint's hold all the while pedaling chaotically with his free leg. And, miraculously he didn't even spill the contents of his basket. Fortunately, the bruised flesh and slobbery sweats distracted the rabid bat-dog long enough for me to race by unscathed.

Mentally calculating the date of my last tetanus shot I then ran into Shadow, a Westminster caliber standard black poodle and the very antithesis of Rodney's canine nemesis. This pampered pup is better groomed than a Manhattan socialite during fashion week. And, having cared for Shadow when mummy and pap were on holiday I learned she covers herself with a blanket for sleeping, prefers pottying with privacy and has impeccable table manners. Sadly, that's more than I can say for most of my social circle.

As Shadow sashayed (say that fast three times) past me clad in Black Cherry Chutney toe nail polish and a rhinestone studded collar, I saw a young woman walking leisurely toward me. She cooed at and lovingly patted her baby who was swaddled (baby bjorn style) around her torso in a luxurious pashmina scarf. As I pedaled closer I quickly realized the "baby" was really a morbidly obese gray cat with demonic yellow eyes. And, the coddled cat had the gall to pin his hairy little ears back and greet me with a less than cordial throaty growl. I hate to pass judgment, but socially it's not looking too promising for kitty's mommy.

Deciding I didn't have the time to snag my camera or the chutzpah to ask the feline fanatic for a photo I decided to finish my ride. Bad call. As I cycled down the narrow sidewalk adjacent to a busy 4 lane highway I noticed a crazy eyed billy goat chained to a Goodyear all season radial. Wild Bill began thundering towards me, poised for battle through the knee deep weeds. He (gender assumed, not verified)quickly hit the end of the leash but not before slamming his head full speed into the chain link fence separating us, nearly pitching me into traffic.

And still, people ask why I carry pepper spray!