Day 3: Me, the Bike and the Neighbor's Dog

Bill, Tania and I talked a bit over breakfast this morning about the humor and at times, absurdity, of traditional tune names. Tunes like "Mickey Chewing Bubble Gum", and "The Britches Full of Stitches" and "Tripping up the Stairs". And yet, strange and funny as many of them may be, they have an honest truth to their origin. Someone had a dandy little polka melody pop into their head while watching Mickey chew on a wad of bubblegum one day who knows how many (or how few) years ago, and there you have it.

While a tune didn't come to me at the time, I decided after this morning, that if a fast, frantic and ominous reel ever materializes in my head, I'll call it "Me, the bike, and the neighbor's dog".

Bill and Tania left to head back into Ennis for the day, leaving me as master of the house to practice and relax as I saw fit. Bill also left out his bike for me, pointing out that it would be a beautiful day for a ride (and it was! If I improved my piping every time someone's mentioned to me how lucky I've been with the weather we've had the past few days, I'd be Seamus Ennis himself!)

After a short and frustrating morning practice session, I decided to hop on the bike and ride the couple hundred yards down the road to the beach. About halfway there, I heard a dog start barking and looked to see a golden lab hell bent for leather in the yard just ahead off to my right. The yard was closed in by a short stone and dirt berm, so I wasn't too concerned at first, but I picked up my pace anyways. The dog did not slow his as he approached the berm just about even with me (good pursuit angles on that one) and I realized he had every intention and ability to leap it without breaking stride.

Now I'm not normally scared of dogs. I know that if you show no fear, tell them 'no' and 'go home' in a loud stern voice, you'll usually be fine. But I was on a bike (for the first time in over a year, no less) in strange terrain on a narrow, loose gravel road without anyone who had any inkling of who I was within at least an hour drive. And this dog looked like he meant serious business. And I'm not sure what the vaccination laws are in this country. I pedalled my heart out with the dog running right along side me for about a hundred yards before he finally dropped back and eventually gave up chase.

Just around a bend I passed a small house sitting practically on the road, and laying in front of it was a black dog, who eyed me curiously without moving a muscle outside his face as I rode past.

"Go have a chat with your pal down the street about how to greet strangers", I thought to him.

I reached the beach in one piece, pulled the bike off the road and stowed it against the seawall and proceeded to walk the beach and the stone dam just behind it, closing off a small man made lake from the sea for about the next hour. It's been quite surreal and at the same time, hyper-realistic absorbing the natural setting that I've found myself in the past few days. The sights, the smells and the sounds (or more notably, lack thereof) are simultaneously comforting and jarring. Its been representative of my overall mood, too, as I've been in a bit of a tweener state lately, not quite feeling the relaxed and unbridled joy that comes of being someplace on vacation, yet knowing I certainly am not 'home', either.

After a bit, I headed back up to the bike, and started the short ride back to the school, bracing myself for another encounter with the yellow dog. As I approached, I strategized that my best plan would be to build up enough speed as I approached that he'd have less time to react and perhaps I could be well past before he even made it out to the road. I was building up speed as I passed the black dog, still laying in the same spot, who gave me a look as if to say, "you know that'll never work, right?".

Approaching that yard again, I was on full alert. No sign of--wait a minute, there's vicious dogs alright. I can hear one of them now. Peddle harder. Did I mention this dog has a great sense of pursuit angles? My pre-emptive speed build up gained me nothing. He met me at full speed and hopped the berm just ahead of me. Swerving to avoid him, I went off the road slightly into the grass and weeds and for a moment, I thought that was it. But I somehow kept the bike upright and just kept peddling. My mind immediately began racing to try and recall/calculate the distance between where the dog had given up the first place and the projecting that along this route back to determine where I might loose him. I did mention that the entire route from the school to the beach is only a few hundred yards, right? And I'd estimated he'd chased me about a hundred yards on the way out. I think you see where I'm going with this. And the dog seemed to be hanging right close by. Fortunately, he did drop off just before I reached the school, but had he held out any longer, I don't think I could've continued to outrun him past the school. Not to mention that there's a T-Junction just beyond the school, so the prospect of having to slow down for a turn or take my chances on the loose gravel wasn't particularly appealing, either.

I decided that tomorrow, if I go for a bike ride, I'll have a look down the other way and see what's on at least one end of that T-Junction.

When Bill and Tania got home and asked if I'd gone for a ride, I mentioned that I had a bit of a close call with the neighbors dog. Bill asked, "Oh, did ye ride off that way, then did ye?" and indicated the intended direction of tomorrow's ride.

Maybe I'll just stay here and practice all day tomorrow.