I was walking back from the coffee shop on 24th and folsom. I never like the coffee there, no clue why, but theirs always feels too hot and dry(?) and makes me feel dehydrated. But it was open and I wanted a tall ceiling, natural light place to sit and maybe zone out a bit. This place had a sort of grungy, chipped paint concrete floor feel, which felt like a real honest-to-god simulation of the type of place I used to hang out in back in the latter days of the good and old. But then I would look and see all stripes of people, the whole shop, a silent chorus all staring at their phones, and that breaks the spell for me still.
I sat there a bit and then hiked up Folsom in the late late late afternoon sun. Rounding the curve near the top I hear someone yelling Riley! Riley! with a marked amount of force and seriousness. I thought to myself: chill out, guy, imagining this guy as some softy guy who can't handle his dog or human interaction with even a little bit of script free friction, someone without my 'trust a dog to be a dog' easy remove that I've cultivated over many entirely dog-free years. A couple are making a camera phone video of the scene and I stop to see how it plays out. I see a dog chasing another along the side of the hill, below the guy where he can't see and then realize that the golden retriever tail, hey, was chasing a coyote! I forgive the guy mentally with immaculate grace, though he's probably still a softy, because I understand a coyote could probably fuck up most any domesticated dog. Riley runs back up the hill to master. Wile E. has escaped and sits, panting, looking out over our shoulders to the city
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