One summer several years ago, I was living in Ottawa. I had quit my job in Montreal and had moved in with Ruth. As I figured out what I wanted my next career move to be, my routine began taking shape. I divided my days between applying for jobs, studying statistics and improving my coding.
To maintain my motivation and productivity in both my job search and studies, I created a routine, an integral part of which was exercising. I would alternate between handstand practice in the living room and working out with a kettlebell in our apartment’s backyard.
Our apartment was located in a residential area with detached homes. Our building was unique in that it was subdivided into a few apartments.
The owners of the house next door had two little pugs. What they lacked in size they made up for in volume. While I was exercising in our yard, they would stand on the neighbour’s wooden deck, barking at me. It would usually start with one of them, the other joining after rushing over from another part of the patio to see what caused its compatriot’s vexation.
Their barking always made be uncomfortable. I tried to be rational, telling myself that there’s a fence between us, and anyway, they are too small to do anything. This was how I soothed myself to be able to continue my activities through the yapping.
Until one day.
I had carried the kettlebell down the stairs at the back of the house and set it on the ground when the barking began. This time, the two dogs had grander plans. They made their way down from the patio to the fence between the two homes. I can continue, I thought.
But then, they slipped under the fence.
They raced over on their short legs, barking the whole time. They circled around me. At this point, I abandoned the kettle bell and backed away slowly. They followed me. I started climbing the stairs. They were most likely afraid of stairs, as I was not pursued.
I closed the door, the barking growing fainter and less frequent. After catching my breath from this near-death experience, I decided to look outside to see what had happened. I opened the door and took a peek.
The dogs were still there. They saw me and started barking again. I didn’t know what to do: I couldn’t just leave my kettlebell in the yard. Anyone could grab it (though the chances of someone coming into our yard from the street, seeing a kettlebell, and taking it were slim).
Eventually, the neighbour emerged and commanded his dogs to come back inside. I didn’t know whether I was safe, but I knew that I couldn’t let these dogs derail my workout.
I completed my workout that day, and had many more workouts in that yard for the rest of the summer. The fence must have been fixed, as the dogs never made it to my side again. But from then on, my workouts were tainted by pug-induced anxiety.