The Taser's Edge

A Rather Intimate Affair

This morning, as I neared Duke’s east campus, some hair got in my mouth.  Wearing stupid mittens, but not nearly as stupid as the ones I would have to wear if I lost this pair, I couldn’t do much about the hair until I got off my bike.  Then I had to lock things up, and I was sitting on the bus by the time I could get to the hair situation.

I did that thing where you lightly grab your tongue between thumb and forefinger and then sweep across its surface.  And out came a hair.  But it wasn’t mine.  It was far too short and far too white to be mine.  It was Prudence’s.

Now to be clear, my lips have never touched that dog.  I am not a pet owner who likes to kiss his dog on the mouth or anywhere else, nor have I ever chosen to let her lick my face.  But Prudence is a dog who likes to leave her hair lying around, and I am a person who likes to leave his clothes lying around, and sometimes, as goes the saying, the twain shall meet.

And that, my friends, is the story I shall stick to.