Nervous Nellie Makes Friends

I take Hattie Mae to Point Defiance almost every day.  Usually we jog the trails; but some days, when my knees and feet are feeling their age, we just walk.  Either way, Hattie has a great time; munching on sticks, sniffing the ground, hoping to stumble upon some deer droppings.  While we are there,  we usually run into the same people.  

Some of these folks I have been running into (no pun intended) for a long time.  However, it wasn't until Hattie started joining me that they became friendly.  Which means they want to stop, chat and pet a crazy, little, brown dog.

Dennis, The Chipmunk Feeder, is the perfect example.  This old guy has been walking the trails with his bag of bird seed for a few years.  He always walks quietly, with his head and eyes lowered, focusing on the trail in front of him and the noise coming from his very loud headphones.  Apparently, he's a fan of talk radio.  Yet, despite seeing him almost daily, he'd never said more to me than, simply, "hi."  If that.  Usually, it was just a nod.

Hattie Mae changed all that.  Now, when he sees us, his eyes light up, he turns down his radio, and he bends down to give Hattie A LOT  of attention.  He really has no other choice.  Hattie demanded that they become friends.  And she did so, like she always does, by barking like mad.  

This crazy behavior of hers did not deter him, however.  It did not frighten him.  It did not worry him.  On the contrary, it seemed to delight him.  The more she barked, the more he smiled and tried to pet her.  "Oh, she's just a pup," he'd sigh and be on his way.

Over a few weeks, her manic barking lessened.  She continued to jump and wag her tail, but a little less with each visit.  Until, finally, he was able to pet her and speak to me.  And speak he did!

"Well, I need to stop at the Metropolitan Market and bring her some dog bones!  That's the only store I shop at now that I'm retired, and sober.  Because they have the meat without all the preservatives and hormones in it.  I try to be healthy now."

I, on the other hand, was speechless!  I had seen this man frequently for several years--passed him almost daily over the last few weeks--and he he'd never said one word to me!  Now he's spewing multiple sentences!  Without pause!

How did this happen?  

Hattie Mae broke through his barrier.  She brought him into our world, or us into his, I'm not sure.  Either way, it's much better this way.  We look for him on the trail now.  As he looks for us.  Now he always stops, says hi, and gives the friend he dubbed The Nervous Nellie a few pets.    And, though I always tell him no, he also always asks if we've seen Susie.  I don't know who Susie is, and I doubt I ever will; but I don't care.  What I do care about is that we're talking.  That he's petting Hattie.  That Hattie's wagging her tail and trying to get her nose into his bag of bird treats.  That he and Hattie have become friends.