cat-puppy

walking on artist's point,
       grand marais.
"I should have known not to
       wear my clogs,"
I say, to no one in particular,
       as I shiver from the brisk breeze.
The gust separates my
       shirt from my back--
goose pimples.

"prime people watching,"
       I fake-whisper to mom.
we watch--without staring--
      another family as they stumble
      over the rocks
Their big black lab
      barks incessantly at the passersby,
      eliciting a fearful whimper
      from a red-capped toddler.

The dog's owner
     guffaws a bit too loudly
     for the tastes and styles
     of northern Minnesota.

"He must have brought that
     truck with the Texas plates,"
     I fake-whisper to mom.

"Haw, looks like ye brought
yer cat-puppy," snorts
       the Texan.
The red-capped boy attempts
      to hide behind his
      little terrier,
      finding his mother's legs
     make a better haven
      to peek through.
The cat-puppy whimpered
      more than the boy--

being predictably
       non-confrontational,
the midwestern family
        picked up their
       cat-puppy and
        made their way to the
       parking lot.
The Texans snorted and
      even the black lab seemed
       to swagger more than before,
even amidst the scowls and furrowed
      brows of the passersby.

9.1.05