Saturday after the workshop, Karen, who had never been to Seattle, asked me to take her somewhere that was not a place to eat. Since museums would be closing soon, the only thing I could think of was Pike Place. Luckily, she loves shopping and I still found places to eat.
I love Lowell’s and took a break in the second floor bar for their clam chowder. Unfortunately 13 Coins has ruined all clam chowders for me. Theirs is so good, Lowell’s pales by comparison. Although I do love anything in a bread bowl.
I have been debating whether or not to tell this story, since it kind of makes me look like a reckless idiot and will terrify my mother. But this is the adventures of Kiki Maraschino, right? And it was kind of an adventure.
After we visited Pike Place, we were driving back along Alaskan way. It was made even more desolate near the sports arena by ongoing construction. On the first block with restaurants and people we were stopped when we saw a young homeless couple waiting for the light with a beagle dog. The dog was barking and the man was screaming at it to shut up. He then lifted the dog up by its choke chain, letting it strangle. Karen, a serious dog lover, and I were both freaking out. When he let it down the dog tried to run, and he yanked it back hard, letting it get scraped along the pavement as its legs went out under it. We were so incensed and confused, we had no idea what to do.
Then the man did something I have never seen before and hope to never see again. He reached down and started punching the dog in the face. I said, “Fuck it. Pull over. I’m going to kill that guy.” When our light turned green, Karen zoomed into the right lane and pulled over in the driveway of a restaurant. I flew out of the car and flew at the couple, who were crossing the 8-lane boulevard. I shouted, “You can’t treat a dog that way. It is against the law. You are going to go to jail. Now give me that dog.” I reached for the leash and the guy pulled out a knife. He didn’t hold it up; he held it at his waist to show it to me. I didn’t think about getting hurt. I thought, “Oh my God, I bet that thing is filthy. God knows what kind of diseases I would get from it.”
During our confrontation the light changed again and cars pulled up to the crosswalk. A large truck stopped 2 feet from me, honking and revving its engine. Frustrated but not seeing an alternative, I walked back to the car. Unbeknownst to me Karen had run across the street to head them off at the pass and was having her own verbal altercation with the woman, who told her, “It’s my dog. I can treat it any way I want.”
Karen returned, also unsure of what to do about this poor dog. She said, “Of course we’re in a rental. If we were in my car I have pepper spray and a taser.” We found a policeman a block away and sent him back to look for the couple.
Karen looked at me, curious, “You tried to take his dog away.”
“Yeah.”
“What were you going to do with it?”
“Give it to me friend Anne. She loves animals.”
True to her kind nature, Anne would later lament, “Ohh, I would have loved to have a beagle.”
