Crazy Dog Lady

by Arwa Mahdawi

A lovely little dog with a greyish muzzle and a kindly, intelligent expression, against a red velvet background
Rascal (images courtesy of the author)

In the popular imagination writers often have rock and roll lifestyles. Me? Not so much. On the contrary, I have the world’s most mundane weekday routine. Every morning around 8:25am, I wipe congealed oatmeal off my kid’s face then put her in a stroller. Then I put a leash on my dog (a mutt called Rascal) and walk to daycare with the two of them. Then I walk back home with an empty stroller and my dog. 

This extremely ordinary routine—or at least the latter half of it—seems to puzzle people. More than once, I have had strangers stop me in the street and ask if the empty stroller is for my dog. “No,” I’ll explain, “it’s for my small child who I’ve just dropped at daycare.” They’ll nod along but look like they don’t quite believe me. “Oh,” they’ll often reply. “I thought it was for the dog.” 

It’s a paywall, but a small one

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