People think you’re crazy when…
You talk to yourself. In my case, it’s ‘talk to my dog’ while walking down the street. Completely unaware that anyone else is nearby until I realized that there was a woman standing in her garden, wearing gardening gloves, and holding a pair of clippers. Not gardening, though… just… staring at me… as I finish explaining to the dog that we’re NOT going to try to chase any cats today, no we aren’t! And then we’re going to go home and have breakfast, because I’m hungry!
You stop abruptly or make sudden changes in direction for no apparent reason. Like, say, if I were trying to stop Gwynn from pulling on the leash, and my solution is to stop moving any time the leash goes tight. And then nearly got run over by the person who had been walking behind me and not paying enough attention. Or, if I were trying to get Gwynn to focus more on me, and started jogging erratically around a field, randomly going left or right or backwards. And there’s a group of kids who were playing basketball nearby, but who aren’t anymore, because they’ve found something more interesting to watch.
Your clothing is covered in little fuzzy bits (without you being aware), and you don’t take the ‘out’ a coworker offers when they suggest that you had been wearing a wool sweater. Well, what he actually said (because he’s Scottish and just visiting our office) was “Oh, I see someone’s been wearing a (*i heard ‘someone’s a bit of a’*) jumper”, (my response: Um… sorry, why am I a jumper?) and, once I figured out that he was suggesting I was covered in sweater-fuzzies, I promptly explained that my dog was fuzzy and liked lying down in laundry. I think he thought I left my clothing out for the dog on purpose. I might officially be a crazy-dog-lady in his mind.
You interrupt your own speech and that of the people talking to you with random “EEEEH!” and “NAH!” type noises. Which are what I use to warn Gwynn away from doing something ‘unwise’, like eat goose poop, or to stop him from playing so rough with another dog.
You spend 20 minutes running back and forth along the beach waving your arms, shouting and acting very excited when you find a stick. Like I did this weekend, while trying to fulfill part of the K9 Kamp challenge of this week. Instead of chasing the stick (and the dog) into the lake (fully clothed), I chose the alternate appear-crazy option, and ran like a fiend along the shoreline whenever I wasn’t throwing a stick. Gwynn thought this was great fun, trying to catch up to me to drop the stick, and then chasing me (and the stick) back to our ‘throwing point’ for me to throw the stick. By the time he had grabbed the stick, I was halfway down the beach, yelling for him to catch up to me and hunting for a new stick. Suffice to say, in a very busy park on a beautiful sunny and warm day, we had the beach to ourselves for the duration.
Have any of you gotten that look from strangers recently? You know the one… slightly judgemental with a smidgen of alarm. Like they’re debating whether any kind of interaction with you might let the crazy rub off on them. Yeah… that one… Any takers?