I haven’t done one of these “solo episodes” in a while.

I know I promised I wouldn’t anymore because I felt like I was making it too much about “me,” but a guest rescheduled at the last minute and I don’t want to break the momentum of putting out at least one episode a week.

I’m superstitious like that.

So, here’s a short story I’m working on for one of the many books I’ll probably never publish.

It’s a ‘ruff’ draft.

I’m not gonna lie, sometimes I get pretty down on myself…

Wow! I just got hit with some acute ‘deja vu.’

It probably never really actually happened, but I just got struck with this vivid memory of being told sternly that I should never start off a sentence (in writing) with, “I’m not gonna lie.”

For the record, it’s part of my everyday lingo, and I want to stay true to my vernacular.

Now, I just got hit with another major ‘deja vu’ memory of being told that I should never write about ‘deja vu.’

Anyway… sometimes I get pretty down on myself.

I know I’m not alone in this.

Anyone with a modicum of humility understands what we’re all up against: how difficult it is to maintain a joyful connection to the universe at all times, not to mention unwavering confidence in all the impractical ideas we have for how to ‘make the world a better place,’ etc…

And sometimes I question my obsessive dedication to practicing aikido, trudging along with my podcast, and whatever other aerial designs I have in my head of pursuing/promoting this art I love as a vocation (of sorts).

But last Wednesday, at least, my trip to the dojo paid some karmic dividends.

Practice itself was fine. That’s not what this story is about. I was leading the class; we had a visitor from Japan, so I made sure my etiquette was on point.

It was while walking to the train station after class when I felt like, for a brief moment at least, my life had a greater purpose.

When we all left the dojo, I wanted to properly say thank you and goodbye to our Japanese visitor, so I bowed.

As I was mid-bow, two rambunctious young men swaggered brusquely past with some extra attitude. One of them bumped into me. His reaction indicated placing blame on me for the bump. The other one remarked that I looked like I was trying to kiss somebody or something.

I just laughed and said, “Oh sorry… sorry… my fault.”

As I walked to the train, my inner monologue was peppered with praise about how proud I was of myself for not overreacting to the minor pedestrian slight.

This lulled me into a daydream (even though it wasn’t day) of previous instances where I had to temper my temper when bumped into or otherwise inconvenienced by my fellow serfs in the city who didn’t bother to apologize.

I was snapped out of this reverie when I heard a little dog’s sharp yelp.

Ahead of me, navigating the icy, garbage-laden terrain, were two young women walking a dirty white toy poodle.

I feel bad calling the poodle dirty, but it was. All white with muddy paws and those black tear stains that some dogs get.

It cried out because one of the girls stepped on it.

She blamed him (or her, I didn’t check) because it kept “walking between” her feet.

The leash they had wasn’t a choke chain; it was one of those retractable leashes, but they had it let out all the way, at full length.

I was walking about 10 paces behind, and I offered a barely audible “aww, are you okay?”

No one probably heard me but myself.

As we kept walking, me now shaken fully out of my reverie of past potential scuffles, reflecting on how Aikido really maybe has made me a better person, I started thinking like, “Yeah, but what am I actually doing with my life? You know?”

The euphoria of teaching a well-received class was already starting to dissolve, and I started musing about ‘my troubles’.

As I approached the crosswalk; my attention shifted back to the young women with the poor, unkempt little poodle.

The light was about to turn red, and one of the young women (I’ll call her “girl-number-one”) decided to run across the street to catch up to somebody.

She yelled out a name. “Maya.”

At first, I thought that was the dog’s name, but she was yelling it out up ahead while she ran, and it wouldn’t have made sense to yell out the dog’s name like that.

Meanwhile, girl-number-two, the one holding the dog (not named Maya) on the unretracted leash, decided not to cross the street.

She stopped short as the light flashed red.

The poodle, however, wanted to follow girl-number-one, so he (or she) darted up ahead after her. And, because the leash was at full length, the little muddy-pawed dog was able to scamper across the street without any hindrance to its mobility.

I saw this scene unfurl in slow motion, without all the verbiage.

A voice in my head said, “Oh S**t! That dog’s about to get hit.”

And sure enough, I saw a car, trying to make the light, speed through the intersection.

Now, I don’t know if my voice can actually arrest canine movement through sound waves, but in that moment, I tried it anyway. I yelled out, “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!”

In essence, I barked.

The little dog stopped (not, thank God) dead in its tracks. A split second before it would’ve been crushed beneath the left front tire, it jumped back, turned around, looked at me like I said something it understood, and ran towards me.

I paid no attention to girl-number-two. Girl-number-one was long gone.

I’m too self-conscious about sounding like a fussy, old, concerned citizen to have offered any admonishment. Instead, I talked to the dog directly. I said, “You need to be careful when you cross the street; you’re going to get hit by a car. It’s very dangerous.”

The dog looked up at me like it got my point. I know it probably didn’t, but it looked at me like it did and sat at my feet.

Girl-number-two said “thank you” kind of nonchalantly. Like I said, I don’t want to get into it with people. I don’t want to judge them for their attitudes or their ability to take responsibility. I don’t want to come across like an old man who tells people what to do.

Not for nothing, but this is the third dog-life I’ve saved.

The previous two were little dogs that were about to get killed by big dogs. In both scenarios, the big dog had the little dog in its mouth, and I ran over and picked the big dog up by the collar and just yelled loudly in its face, “No!” The big dog dropped the little dog and then kind of apologized to me.

I know it sounds a little bit far-fetched (get it?), but it really happened. Twice.

Anyway, as far as last Wednesday night goes, I’m not saying that I’ve gained any special powers through my obsessive Aikido practice enabling me to stop potentially destructive actions through sound waves.

My point is: if I didn’t go to class, I wouldn’t have been in the position to save that dog’s life.

So at least for a fleeting moment, I felt like I was on the right track.

Maybe that little dirty poodle’s destiny is to do something great.

Get full access to Ki to the City at kitothecity.substack.com/subscribe