The Tale of Annandale Annie

At the bottom of the two mile descent down Glenoaks this morning, I stopped next to an elderly man walking his dog. The dog was a golden brown with some bull terrier traits in her, but I couldn't tell for sure what exactly. The old man was very interested in how I stopped right next to him, saw my deep breath as I flashed him a smile and a good morning, and asked,

"Did you just come down the Glenoaks hill?"

I smiled again and replied, "Yup. I went up it too!"

The old man's eyes twinkled, and that seemed to signal the next phase of a friendly encounter. The dog approached me as I straddled my bike and sniffed my proffered hand. There were just the beginnings of white hair around her mouth, which put her age around 7 or 8 years old. The dog accepted my petting and her owner said,

"Looks like she likes you."

I asked, "What's her name?" I continued patting the side of her jaw, something that larger dogs always seemed to enjoy.

"She's called 'Annandale Annie.'"

"Annandale Annie?" I asked, a smile beginning to pull up the corners of my mouth as I knew there was going to be a story involved here.

"Sure," he replied. "You know the golf course near here? Annandale? I used to golf there a lot." Indeed, the old man looked like he wished he were walking there at the moment, as he was wearing khakis, saddle shoes that looked like golf shoes with the spikes removed, and a light water resistant jacket. The story began to wind up... "Well, one day I came across this brown streak of a dog running all over the course, and I caught her!"

I looked down at Annie, who was now offering her paw, and resting it on my leg. She looked like she had never misbehaved in her entire life, much less tearing up a golf course and running amok. She and her owner were probably fixtures at the clubhouse for a few years before the old man had to give up the game.

"So you got her at the golf course and that's how she got her name?" I replied. I know how the give and take of an oft-told tale is supposed to go.

"Yep. We've been together ever since. Me and 'Annandale Annie.'"

We exchanged a few more pleasantries, as Annie seemed to really like me. I blame the sweat. I also related how I used to have a large dog who weighed more than I did, and how he died of old age. The old duffer told me how Annie used to walk with him and his other dogs, who were so much smaller than she was, and what an odd picture it made, this tall man, this large dog, and these tiny dogs all walking the road together. And then it was time to go. The old man had to climb up a little ways back to his house with Annie, and I had to negotiate a hairy left turn back onto Linda Vista. Perhaps I'll see them again, the old golfer and Annandale Annie.