Possession

This is the dog I love and the son I love.  I do not feel that I own or possess either one, but there is something about men and ownership and possession that baffles me...

Examples: this morning I was running up the road, and a man with a big dog on a thick leash had crossed in front of me, and as he stood on the grass of a neighbor's house, his dog on that thick leash was standing in the road, the leash blocking my path.  I slowed down and gently moved the dog closer to the curb because the man did NOTHING to pull him in, forcing me into the middle of the road if I'd gone around the dog.  I continued with my run, clearly leaving behind me a problem.  The problem was speechless but then began to scream at the top of his lungs, "Don't touch my fucking dog, BITCH."

I was reminded of running with my husband years ago when I tripped when a dog ran in front of me; I was down on the ground, gravel ground into my knees, elbows and legs.  I looked up to see my husband, running after the man with the dog instead of tending to his wife who was bleeding and down on the ground!  HE might as well have yelled, "Don't touch my bitch, DOG!"

Men...