"Micropolitan Diary" is Gossips' homage to and blatant imitation of "Metropolitan Diary" in the New York Times. The term micropolitan was coined because Hudson is a metropolis in microcosm.
My dog and I usually take our morning walk before 7 a.m. Today it was after 8 when we set out. It was already beastly hot, and our walk turned out to be uncommonly long and circuitous as we struggled like rats in a maze to make our way back to our cool house.
Necessary background information: On the street, on a leash, my dog does not handle encounters with other dogs well, so I try to avoid them.
This morning, as we headed east on Warren Street, I spotted a man approaching (about a half block away) with two big black dogs. Normally, I would have just crossed the street, but it was hot and I was willing to cut the walk short, so we doubled back and escaped through Thurston Park to Cherry Alley.
I intended to take Cherry Alley to Second and just go home, but as we neared the corner, a woman with a little white fluffy dog approached from the right and entered the alley. We doubled back, hoping to get back to Thurston Park before the little white dog caught up to us. Then I noticed that the garage doors at 217 Warren Street were open, and the building's owner was there, so with apologies for trespassing and a brief explanation of why, we cut through the garage back to Warren Street.
On Warren, we headed west. As we were about to turn onto Second, I spotted a man with a white French bulldog in our path, so we kept going on Warren to First. When we'd turned left onto First, there was a woman a block ahead with a big black shepherd and a little dachshund, so we ducked into Cherry Alley to avoid them.
Once again we headed for Second Street, but halfway up the block, the French bulldog reappeared, heading our way. So we doubled back to First Street and headed for Union.
On Union there was no sign of the shepherd and dachshund (they'd retreated into their house). Mercifully, the coast was clear, so my dog (who was panting by this time) and I (who was doing the human equivalent of panting) were able to make our way unimpeded to Second, then to Allen, and finally home.COPYRIGHT 2015 CAROLE OSTERINK