Dear Rude Boy:

If you hadn’t crashed into my sister-in-law and me multiple times in the wave pool this weekend, I wouldn’t have said anything. I know what it’s like to splash around and have fun with your friends, and sometimes you get distracted and bump into someone. I get that. But when you do it repeatedly despite the fact that we’ve been consciously moving away from you, and then I see you kick a little girl in the head while you’re trying to drown your pal, it’s not inappropriate for me to do what I did.

As I’m sure you remember, the next time you came splashing toward me with no regard for the people around you, I put my hand on your back and straightened my arm to keep you from knocking me over (again). As I’m sure you’ll also remember that my exact words to you when you turned around, aghast, were, “You guys need to be more aware of your surroundings, okay? You’ve crashed into us multiple times.” 

Now, what I expected you to do after that happened was to say, “Oh, sorry,” and move somewhere in the pool where there were less people. Imagine my surprise when you shot me a look before moving closer to your friend and looking pointedly at me while acting like you were talking to him and snarled, “How about if people don’t like it they move the hell out of the way.” 

Here’s the thing, kiddo: We did move out of the way — more than once. And you and your pals were so self-involved that you basically terrorized the entire rear half of the pool for more than an hour.

How would you have felt if someone had continually knocked your girlfriend (you know, the too-young-for-you, scantily clad girl you were hanging on and salivating over when you weren’t crashing into other swimmers?) down in the pool and then, when she asked him politely to stop, he not only didn’t apologize but then made snarky comments and glared at her? I’m guessing a fight would likely have ensued, with you as the aggressor.

I get the impression that you were trying to impress your pals with your devil-may-care, no-one-tells-me-what-to-do attitude and show them how manly you are, but in actuality, you really just acted like a petulant 4-year-old who, frankly, needed a time out and was way overdue for a spanking. Not cool, young man, not cool at all.

I’m not sure what you were so afraid of, or why it was so completely off the table for you to simply acknowledge what the problem was and stop doing it, but this style of handling conflict does not bode well for your future relationship, or for your girlfriend. If you’re so concerned about what your homies or crew or whatever the word is these days think about you that you completely overlook basic manners and decency, I shudder to think how you’d behave if there were some kind of serious conflict, or perhaps if your girlfriend disagreed with you. 

Was I threatening your masculinity by asking you not to run into me repeatedly in a large body of water? Did I emasculate you by asserting my right not to be assaulted by inconsiderate strange males in public places? Were you concerned that my request that you respect my personal space would cause a lightbulb to go on in your girlfriend’s head, leading to her ultimately standing up to you when you pull your undoubtedly common immature crap?

Man up, little boy. Real men don’t need to behave like big weenies in order to feel manly. They don’t avoid admitting it when they screw up or to treating women with respect for fear of losing street cred. And they don’t hang out with people who would consider taking responsibility, being polite, and demonstrating respect as weaknesses.

I hope you seriously consider everything I’ve said. It will save you a lot of trouble in the future. Honestly. Give it a shot: Grow up.

Oh, and by the way, if you touch me again, I’ll have you thrown out of the park.

Love,

Kristen 

Contents Copyright © 2009 Kristen King, Inkthinker

(photo credit: Marcelo Terraza)

(www.meowbarkblog.com) — My English mastiff Murphy and this dog must have been separated at birth, because they both are total water babies.

Contents Copyright © 2009 Kristen King

(www.meowbarkblog.com) — Murphy is a jealous dog. He loves his bullmastiff brother and pug sister, but at the end of the day, he would cheerfully sell them to the highest bidder if it meant more time alone with us with no other dogs around.

This weekend, we decided to give Murphy some special alone time with just us. Ty stayed home in the crate, with no e-collar for the first time in weeks, and Pickles had the run of the house and yard. They were both quite dismayed to realize that Murphy was getting a ride in the car without them. It was like the end of Pickles’ world, I’m telling you. Almost as bad as this.

But Murphy was in heaven. We took him to a local hot rod show, where he was the center of attention. He was such a champ. He growled at one man (who, for the record, we didn’t like either) and was a sweetheart to everyone else. He ate about a million treats, got about a bazillion tummy rubs, and even had his own flavorless sno-cone.

About halfway through the day, we took him to the creek that ran behind the place hosting the show, where he immediately plopped down in the water and rolled around. Although I think he enjoyed getting cooled off, I think his favorite part was chasing the french fries we threw to him as they started to float downstream. He also liked biting at the water as it rushed over the rocks in the creek bed.

There were two exhibitors who kept Murphy in ice water and ice cubes all day long, too, so he never got too hot. He was quite a hit, and a definite ladies man. One toddler in pink overalls and pink Crocs was a particularly big fan.

After the show, we took Murphy to visit his favorite friend Nancy at Dog Krazy, where he hung out while Jesse and I perused the Fredericksburg antique stores in search of a sofa table to go with our new couch.

And then, as if that weren’t enough, we took him to Alum Spring Park to swim for real in the creek that flows through it.

If I had to guess, I’d say this may have been the best day of Murphy’s life. He’s still sleeping it off.

Contents © Copyright 2008 by Kristen King

We were the perfect little summer family this weekend. On Saturday afternoon, we slathered on the sunblock, packed some sandwiches and drinks in the cooler, and headed to Lake Anna with dogs in tow. We’d never been there before and neither had they, so it was quite an adventure.

But when we arrived we realized that in our excitement to get on the road, we forgot to bring any toys for the dogs to play with. No tennis balls, no Frisbee, no chew toys, nothing. Oops. The plan had been to launch a tennis ball 25 feet out into the lake and watch the dogs splash with glee as they chased it. There goes that plan.

But they had a wonderful time all the same. It turns out that Pickles is quite the little water rat, and when she wasn’t careening around the beach spraying sand on everyone’s towels and knocking down babies (she totally did — I was mortified), she was swimming like a champ and cutting through the water so fast that I couldn’t even keep up with her.

Ty did great, too, though apparently he’s afraid of water deeper than his chest. The only way we could get him to swim was to sneak him backwards while he fixated on the Frisbee being thrown back and forth by two guys completely oblivious to how interesting they were to my big-headed baby. Once he realized he was treading water, he panicked and streaked for the shore.

After all our good times, they fell asleep before we even got the car out of the parking lot. Alarmingly, though, they were quite full of energy after only a few hours of napping. Next time we’ll have to be sure we don’t forget the toys!