I had a bit of a scary moment this morning. Soju and I passed another dog and its owner. I moved about 15 feet away off the walking path to allow the owner and the miniature horse of a dog to pass with nothing more than a head nod from me.
All of a sudden, the very large breed canine launched into a gallop, pulled the owner to the ground, then broke free from the owner’s grasp. The dark gray beast came at us with reckless abandon. Soju went into his fighting crouch and gave the other dog a vicious death growl that in dog language sounded something like “Bring it, my sworn enemy! If this should be the day I die, let it be shedding blood one part courage and one part love for my human, in the heat of battle!”
Soju’s owner, on the other hand, looked into the face of the galloping beast, took a deep breath, and let out his own battle cry. Emphasis on cry. I am somewhere between laughter and shame because I now know when death comes riding in on a dark horse — or great dane — ready to swing its long sickle, I will most likely shout out, as I did this morning, “OH NO!” like an elderly aunt emoting at the fact that Glenn Close failed to win the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress.
In the end, no dogs were hurt in this story. Only the ego of an old Soldier, now doubting his ability to hold the line.
I may take off early today and shop for an F-350 or go break a wild horse. Something stereotypically manly like the old Viagra commercials. Or maybe eat some Ben and Jerry’s. Yeah; probably that.