Why Do I Have A Cat?

This is why I have a cat:

A Danger Nobody Talks About

When I delivered newspapers on my department-store Murray bike (shh...Don't tell anybody), I carried a can of pepper spray.  I wasn't worried about being robbed or jumped--not by humans, anyway. 

In the then-still-smalltown New Jersey where my family moved in the middle of my puberty (talk about changes!), many yards were unfenced and dogs roamed them--and outside them--freely.  Most were friendly or at least non-aggressive.  But every once in a while, one would violate any sense of personal space I had or even give chase.

Being young, I could outride them. But once, an Irish wolfhound managed to set on me before I could take off.  I was lucky, I guess:  the dog's teeth scraped me just above my hip but didn't leave me with a deep or serious wound.  

Justin Gilstrap is not so lucky.  The 11-year-old was riding his bike near his Georgia home when, according to reports, three Pit Bulls set on him and dragged him into a ditch on the side of the road.  Now he's missing part of his ear and 70 percent of his scalp.

The dogs have been euthanized and Justin’s family is suing their owners.  One can only hope that he has a good recovery.

Can They Be Bred For This?

 During the pandemic, many people adopted dogs. I joked with a neighbor that our street should be renamed "Westminster" because of all of the folks promenading with their pooches.

Along with the increased numbers came canines in configurations and colors I'd never seen before.  Some are previously-obscure breeds that found popularity; others, it turns out are new cross-breeds.

I wonder whether some cyclist is trying to create a dog that can accompany a rider without being bundled into a basket or box.  

For that matter, is someone trying to breed a cat that can be brought on a bike ride, period?  No offense, Marlee!

Out For A Walk?

Sometimes, when I see a small person with a really big dog, I wonder who is walking whom?

Of course, if the dog is leashed to a bike, neither the canine nor the cyclist are walking each other.  But I have to wonder whether the dog is pulling the cyclist:

What's that about a dog's life?

How I've Stayed Ahead Of Them

After my family moved to New Jersey, I started delivering The Asbury Park Press on my bicycle.  Every once in a while, I'd be chased by a dog.  But none ever caught me.  

Years later, I realized it had been a long time since I'd been been the object of a canine pursuit.  Even when I rode through the countrysides of France, Italy, Vermont, Pennsylvania, western New Jersey, upstate New York, California and Nevada--all places where various shepherds and terriers and such roam free--I didn't have to outrun anyone's pooch.  

"Well, that's because they've given up on you.  You're too fast."  That, from Greg, an old riding partner, is one of the best compliments I ever received, even if it was, shall we say, somewhat exaggerated.

Now I realize why I haven't been pursued:  

Now you know what is meant by "a dog's life":  one without a bicycle!

And They Used To Say I Was An Animal On My Bike...

Every once in a while, I see someone "walking" his or her dog while riding a bicycle.  I have probably seen it most often on or around beaches, especially in Florida.  However, I've also seen it in parks and even on streets here in NYC.

"A Dog's Pace" by Carolee Clark.

Sometimes I wish I could do the same with Max and Marlee. I could carry them in the baskets on my LeTour, I guess.  The only problem is that I don't know how I would get Max into a basket, as he doesn't like to be picked up and is no longer the climber he was in his youth, and that Marlee would never sit in a basket long enough for me to start riding.

I once rode about two kilometers carrying a little Yorkie in my cocked left arm and my right hand on my handlebar.  I'd found her wandering through a busy intersection where she was in imminent danger of becoming roadkill. No one seemed to know where she came from and I rode, hoping to find a shelter or a vet's office.  Finding neither, I took her to a precinct house, where a burly sergeant fell in love with her.

Max would never stand--or, more precisely, sit or curl up--for such a ride.  Marlee might, for a couple of minutes.  Then her nervousness would get the best of her and she'd wriggle her way into a fall onto the pavement.

I find it ironic that in other parts of the world, people on bikes carry all kinds of other animals.  I saw a man ride with a monkey on his shoulder in Marseille, France and another man with a lizard standing guard on his sternum as he navigated the alleyways of Rome.

But they had nothing on this guy, with a goat along for the ride, in Uganda.  I just hope the passenger gave him a hefty tip:

From Art Propelled