Death to Chihuahuas: Cyclocross Animal Sacrifice Part Two
I had to kill a bird to get the ‘cross gods to bless me with a remount. Since then my front wheel is a magnet for suicidal vermin. Squirrels dodging underneath my mud tires, looking for an easy way to end the pain of losing the backyard battle to my anti-squirrel boyfriend.
The bird was one thing. Squirrels are quite another. I’ve become more and more comfortable with the idea that animal sacrifice may be an essential part of my training plan. But squirrels? They’re cute despite their incessant chattering, aren’t they?
Could be I’m just going soft.
I don’t know why the small animals of Portland are flocking to my path, but it’s starting to freak me out.
Yesterday it was a Chihuahua.
Chihuahuas? I have to draw the line at a Chihuahua.
Making circles in the park executing remount after remount, I caught the shape of a fuzzy ball zipping across the lawn into my line.
“Squirrel!!!” I thought and I slammed on both breaks evenly, coming to a precarious if just-barely controlled stop about a foot away from the racing vermin.
“Yap yap yap yap yap yap!”
An old man appeared to my right with eyes the size of saucers.
Fuck! I almost killed an old man’s chihuahua!
Yap yap yap yap!
His face was relief and smiles when he saw the little bugger was ok but me? My nerves are shot and I’m starting to think that the universe it trying to tell me something.
I apologized profusely (for what I’m not sure, the dog was off-leash and came out of fucking nowhere) and headed up the hill and out of the park back to the streets where I am the small one dodging fast wheels.
Mind your puppies, people. Mind ‘em good.