I spend half the year on Cape Cod. As with most beach towns, once Labor Day rolls around, the summer crowds have left. Although some return on weekends throughout September and October, the two most beautiful months of the year on the Cape, during the week, the beaches are generally empty, especially at 7 a.m.

As I do every morning, I took my dog Reggie for a beach walk. A rescue, Reggie is an approximately 11-year-old golden retriever/chow mix. Admittedly, the chow in him gives him just a little bit of an attitude. He’s not scary – he simply thinks it’s his beach.

He likes nothing more than running around off-leash. He barks at the waves, the birds, and sometimes even at passersby.

Suddenly, I heard Reggie barking at a man I hadn’t noticed. He didn’t jump at the man or even bear his teeth. Immediately, I ran over and put Reggie’s leash back on. Smiling, I apologized to the man, joking that Reggie thinks it’s his beach.

But the man didn’t smile back. Rather than accepting my gracious apology, he asked why the leash had been in my hand rather than on my dog to begin with and why I felt I was entitled to ignore the leash laws.

I may have rolled my eyes – in fact, yes, I definitely rolled my eyes, and he said, “You impacted me.”

Rather than really impacting this miserable liberal jerk, the way I would have impacted him in my younger days, I walked away.

Calling after me, he repeated himself saying, “You impacted me today.”

Now that I’ve had a chance to digest our encounter, I’m even angrier. I want to go find him so Reggie can bark at him again and I can fire off the barrage he deserves.

Maybe, I’ll see him tomorrow!