This assignment was a tough one for me. Growing up, we didn't have pets. We had a dog
when I was a baby, but we left her with friends when we moved from
Tennessee. Later, we found out I was allergic to everything but fish,
so we never had dogs or cats.
However,
I have had some strange, disturbing & eventful encounters with
animals, so I'll relate a few of those. First one I can think of is
the Castinada's dog, Daisy. Daisy was a Pekinese and the singularly
most obnoxious little fuzz ball ever to walk the earth. She didn't
like anyone, including family, except for Brad & Bart the twins.
She was supposed to be their sister Jennifer's dog, but Daisy didn't
like her either.
Whenever
we went to Brad & Bart's house, we had to run the Daisy gauntlet.
She took her job as self-appointed guard dog seriously. Whenever
someone she didn't approve of walked in the door, she'd run at them,
snapping wildly. (Oh, sorry, that's everyone, right?) We went by one
day when I happened to be wearing stockings. This didn't happen
often, but we'd been at some sort of function where I had to be
dressed up. Daisy ran at me and tore holes in my stockings. After I
got over the urge to stomp the little rodent into oblivion, I swore
I'd get even.
Later
that winter, I had to go to the twins' house again. This time I was
ready. I wore my boots. These aren't some pansy, no-count boots,
these babies are heavy calf hide boots with solid toes and dog
stompin' heels. When she ran at me, I didn't kick her, I simply
picked her up with the toe of my boot and tossed her across the room.
She was so shocked, she forgot to bite anyone. It was bliss! I never
had another problem with Daisy.
I
told ya that story to tell you this one. When I moved to
Hattiesburg, Mississippi from Scottsbluff, Nebraska, I kept those
boots. I was glad I did. I used to ride my Schwinn to college and we
had a nasty dog next door. I could have avoided him by going to the
west, but the road was a busy one. Instead, I went the long way so I
could avoid traffic. This mean I went right by his house.
I
never learned the name of that rotten little rat catching Dachshund,
but he made Daisy look like a real sweetie. He seemed to think that
our yard was part of his territory. When he heard me leave the house,
he'd dash off his porch, across our lawn and follow me down the
driveway, snapping at my feet. He continued following me past his
house to the end of the block three houses down.
Unlike
Daisy, he didn't just snap, he tried to bite. Why his owners let him
run rampant, I have no idea. Maybe they thought it was cute. I didn't
share that opinion and I decided to do something about it.
Riding
a bike in boots is awkward, but I did it. That nasty little beast was
lying in wait for me one rainy morning. He lurked on the porch in the
far corner, hunkering on his belly. I knew he was there and I was,
for once, prepared. I got on my bike and took off, raincoat flapping
at my legs.
Off
the porch like he was launched by a trebuchet, he was in rare form.
Snarling and growling, he made his final approach, determined to get
me. I watched him coming, waiting. When he got close enough, I held
up my boot, heel first, and kicked out. Again, I didn't try to
connect, I merely scooped him up on my foot, tossing him
unceremoniously into his yard. He landed with a confused 'yipe'.
Not
one to give up, he started after me again. This time, he jumped,
trying to bite me. He caught the edge of my coat in his teeth. Not
willing to have my trench coat defaced by a set of canine teeth, I
pushed at him with my foot. He didn't let go, so I stopped my bike.
The
forward momentum slung him loose. He jumped at me again. I held up my
foot and told him "No!" loudly and firmly. He was so
shocked, he stopped running and did a face plant in the street. After
that, he never followed me again. He'd run to the edge of his yard,
barking wildly, growling and snapping, but like Daisy, he never came
near me again.
You
might think by these two tales that I don't like dogs. Untrue. I love
dogs when they're friendly and well behaved. But I've got news for
the nasty dogs of this town. I've still got my boots, and I know how
to use them!
©
2018 Dellani Oakes
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