I was walking from my house to the train this morning, and I was on my cellphone alerting my dad to the fact that the Tribune had a story on page 3 about me. He was asking me whether the story was scandalous or not, claiming that he didn't want to read anything shockingly bad about me.
Just about then, I spotted a loose puppy, charcoal grey, maybe a French Bulldog, crossing the street toward me, running away from a man and a little girl. It looked sort of like this:
The man shouted out a request for me to stop the puppy.
So I squatted and gestured to it, and it parked itself about a foot in front of me, and I grabbed it by the scruff of the neck. It growled at me a little, but stayed put while the man came to retrieve it.
And while doing this, I actually carried on the conversation with my dad pretty well.
And so, without messing up
I somehow managed to handle
Both a fugitive pup
And scurrilous rumors of a scandal.