Freaks of Nature

12. Shut up!

His name is Kitty. I'm referring to the dog next door. I'm not kidding. That skinny German shepherd's name is Kitty.

I'm on the way to my car when I hear a woman's voice calling him "Hello, Kitty!" I thought she's talking to another pet that is a cat but I was wrong. I expected to hear a meow but I got a woof. I mean, why?

I remember my grandpa Derek. He has the most adorable golden retriever. He named it Dog.

Humans can be so weird sometimes.

I stop on my feet to watch them. Kitty is seriously spoiled by the old lady. He just doesn't know how to stop woofing at me. I thought he loved me. I wonder if dogs get sore throat. I mean, I know he hates me but he's like the only dog I've ever met who's allergic to me. He finally stops when the old lady feeds him a bowl of dog biscuits.

When the old lady sees me, she gives me a smile so me being polite, I smile back. She's probably on her sixties. And no, she's not the typical white haired woman who crochets out of something on a rocking chair. This old woman is a hippie. Her hair is dyed bright purple tied with a red bandana. She's wearing a shirt and on the front, 'Sexy since 1959' is written in bold letters. Her black and white polka dot skirt is a few inches above her knees. She's also wearing a pair of fluffy pink shoes with rabbit ears. Not to mention, the accessories she has. I'm really impressed. She looks so cool and unique. There are only a handful of people who could pull this off and one of them is definitely her.

I like this kind of people. They don't give a shit of what others think and say.

She walks near to me. "Oh you must be the daughter, Jo Keeland?"

She already met my parents? Why didn't they tell me? "Hi yes, I am Mrs...?"

She chuckles. "Oh darling, just Vivian is fine."

"Okay hello Vivian, uh, so is there something wrong with Kitty?" I gesture to the dog still busy with his biscuits.

Her eyebrows furrow along with her wrinkles. "What do you mean?"

"He likes to bark?" I give her a hesitant smile

She gives me that warm grandma smile. You know that smile, right? "Ah, he means well. Don't worry, he's all bark and no bite," she winks at me.

I knew it. I'm no Cesar Millan but dogs can't resist my charm.

"We should hang out sometime. Invite your friends too. I would like to meet them. My grandson will be here too. How about tomorrow lunch? I'd make some pie."

Usually, a normal grandmother doesn't say hang out. What do oldies do on their past time other than making pie anyway? Playing Twister? I have no idea since my grandparents are living on the other side of the country and they like peace. Obviously, she's not included in that category. What does she mean exactly by 'hang out'? Is her grandson as cool as her? I've never seen him yet. I'm curious. She knows my friends? She must have seen them when they were here. Hmm, I'll ask the guys one of these days. Will wouldn't resist a good dessert.

"I'd love to, Vivian. I'll ask them. I need to go to class though. It's really nice to meet you," I give her an apologetic smile.

She urges me to hurry. "Oh you better go then and kick some ass girl!"

Before I get into my car, I call her. "Great outfit Vivian! You totally rock!"

I receive the rock star hand gesture.

That's how I met Vivian.

Mr. Keith is discussing the probabilities of everything. The probability of alien invasion, zombie apocalypse, how many three points shot can Stephen Curry gets in a game, how long Taylor Swift's current relationship would last, and Kanye West being Kanye West. I'm kidding. He's talking about principles and distribution of probability. But that's the thing with statistics, they're just probabilities. They're just estimates. We never know what's going to be the outcome from a certain situation and we might even be surprised from the result. We never know what will really happen. It'll just surprise you in the face with a loud bang.