Today was not a good day for me. The morning began with a big spill of coffee, hot and sticky, all over my pants. Then, when I went to catch my bus, I just missed it by two minutes. I had to wait a long time for the next one. My main reason for coming to the botanical garden was to find a very specific tiny moss. It is so small, you almost need a magnifying glass to see it. It likes a very quiet and damp spot, away from many people. I was hoping to find it today. I needed to finish my drawing of it for a little project I have. My special project is about drawing very small things that people do not often notice. It makes me feel good when I can capture something so tiny and often overlooked. I had my small notebook and my special thin pencil ready.
The botanical garden has many parts. Some parts are busy with flowers and bright colors. But I like the quietest parts best. Today, I walked past the big rose garden, which was very pretty but loud with many visitors. I kept going until I found the path to the shaded, wooded section. This part of the garden has a special display of native ferns and small, ancient plants. There was a big sign before the entrance to this special fern section. It was very clear and had a picture. It said, “No Pets Allowed Beyond This Point. Service Animals Only.” This was good, because I knew it would be quiet here. I have a strong bad feeling when people make loud, angry voices, especially sudden ones. It makes my skin crawl and my stomach feel strange. I like calm sounds, like leaves rustling or quiet birds.
I found a good spot near a small stream, where the air was cool and smelled of wet earth. I knelt down and began to look for my moss. It is a challenge to find, like a tiny green dust on the rocks. I was just starting to feel a little bit better, my bad morning fading away, when I heard a jingling sound. It was not a happy sound like a bell from a child playing. It was a dog’s collar. I looked up. A woman was walking right past the big “No Pets” sign. She had a small, fluffy white dog on a leash. The dog looked like a cloud with legs. It was trotting along, its tail wagging a little. The woman was holding the leash loosely. She wore a bright pink visor and had big sunglasses on. Her hair was perfectly styled, like she just came from a fancy hair place. She seemed to think she owned the whole pathway.
I watched her. I wanted to just focus on my moss, but it was hard. She was talking to her dog in a sweet, high voice. The dog, a Bichon Frise, seemed to ignore her, just sniffing at the ground. Its name was Fluffy, I heard the woman say. Then, a garden worker, a young man with a green polo shirt and a name tag, came walking towards her. He was carrying a small rake. He looked a little tired, like me. He stopped in front of the woman. I saw him point to the sign behind her. He spoke quietly, but I could not hear his exact words from where I was sitting.
The woman stopped. She took off her sunglasses and put them on top of her head, pushing her visor back a bit. She put one hand on her hip. She had a look on her face like she was annoyed to be stopped. She talked back to him, but her voice was not quiet. “Oh, please,” she said, her voice carrying across the path. “Fluffy is perfectly well-behaved. She’s not going to hurt anything.” She patted the dog’s head. Fluffy blinked slowly, then yawned a tiny yawn, showing a pink tongue. It looked like the dog knew this speech already.
The young worker tried again. He looked a little nervous. He pointed to the sign again. I think he was saying that it was garden policy, rules for everyone. The woman just waved her hand at him. “It’s just a rule for big, messy dogs,” she said, louder now. “Fluffy is practically a service animal. She calms my nerves. And besides, I always come here. They know me.” Fluffy let out a small sigh, a very human-like sound, and looked up at the woman, then back at the ground.
My concentration on my moss was completely gone. I could not find it. All I could hear was her voice. It was getting higher and more demanding. I felt that familiar bad feeling starting in my stomach. I wished I could just disappear. I just wanted to be invisible and draw my moss. But she was loud. She was making a spectacle. Another worker, an older lady this time, with gray hair tied back, came around the bend. She heard the noise too. She looked surprised to see the woman and her dog in the restricted area.
The pink visor woman turned her attention to the older worker. “Finally,” she said, her voice now sharp. “Someone with some sense! Your young man here is giving me a hard time about my emotional support animal!” She hugged Fluffy to her chest. Fluffy looked out from the woman’s arms with wide, patient eyes. The older worker looked at the younger worker, then at the sign, then back at the pink visor woman. She clearly knew the rules. She started to speak, very calmly. “Ma’am, we really can’t have pets in this area. It’s for the protection of the delicate plants.”
Suddenly, from nearby, a child started to cry very loudly. Not just a whimper, but a full, ear-piercing scream that came out of nowhere. It was a sudden, sharp sound. My body tensed up. That strong bad feeling hit me hard, like a wave. I closed my eyes tightly for a second. The child’s parents were trying to comfort it, but the sound kept going. The pink visor woman flinched. She looked around, annoyed, as if the child’s crying was also personally offending her. “Can’t you do something about that?” she demanded of the garden workers, pointing vaguely towards the sound. “It’s ruining the peace!”
The two garden workers looked at each other. They seemed unsure what to do first. The older worker tried again to talk to the pink visor woman, but her words were almost lost in the child’s wails and the woman’s own exasperated sighs. I felt so tired. My bad morning, the loud voices, the sudden child’s scream, it was all too much. My moss project was impossible now. The quiet, peaceful place was gone. I slowly packed my notebook and pencil back into my bag. I needed to leave this area. I could not stand the sound, and I could not stand the woman’s demanding voice. I just wanted calm. I stood up, feeling a bit wobbly, and turned to walk back towards the main entrance. As I passed the woman, Fluffy, still in her arms, looked at me with a soft, knowing look. The pink visor woman was still talking loudly to the two garden workers, gesticulating with her free hand, her voice a shrill sound in the air. I kept walking, not looking back, needing to get away from all the noise. I did not see what happened after that.
