I have had better moments than bursting into my mother-in-law's house swearing. Like when Crazy Jim’s goat was out so I set my kid over his fence to try to out run his dog to the front door and back knowing she can climb faster than I can.
Or the time I admitted to a whole room of people I thought Enrique Iglesias was the guy from Blues Clues.
Then there was the time I got my hand stuck in the collar of
(imagine that!) Crazy Jim’s dog while trying to pull (kick) him off the little
dog he was attacking. Awkward moment for both me and the snarling dog I was
tied to.
Okay so dogs, real or imaged, seem to be my downfall which explains
what I’m trying to get to. Imagine you
like dogs but they can kind of scare you because you are old enough to know dogs
smell fear... so you being kind of afraid is possibly like lighting the fuse to the firework in your own hand.
Same can be said for my like and fear of men. Anyway, in this case we are taking about a red dog. And there is me on the sidewalk walking and there suddenly a dog. To be honest this isn’t just any dog. I know this dog I used to live next door to him for like 8 years. Do the math 8 yrs living next door plus 5 years gone away in dog years this dog must be DEAD. Double checked my math and yeah guess what I’m screwed and cannot see it any other way.
Okay, dead zombie dog who was a little scary when he was alive and then about the 5th or 6th time he got hit by a car got cranky is walking towards me. I say in my best big voice, “Go home.” And this makes him come closer. Yep, what did I say? Dogs and Men. I turn up my mother-in-laws front walk (our old house sold to the parents when we bought a farm). The dog gets closer. “Go home, Tron.” That’s good, use the Zombie dog’s name. No that’s bad, hearing his name he runs towards me ‘cause one of us is happy to see the other and one of us-yeah, not so much. That was the reason I burst into my mother-in-laws house swearing: I thought I was being attacked by a zombie dog.
Turns out the dog is not actually dead. The moral of story is: when you happen upon a zombie dog check your blood sugar.
Same can be said for my like and fear of men. Anyway, in this case we are taking about a red dog. And there is me on the sidewalk walking and there suddenly a dog. To be honest this isn’t just any dog. I know this dog I used to live next door to him for like 8 years. Do the math 8 yrs living next door plus 5 years gone away in dog years this dog must be DEAD. Double checked my math and yeah guess what I’m screwed and cannot see it any other way.
Okay, dead zombie dog who was a little scary when he was alive and then about the 5th or 6th time he got hit by a car got cranky is walking towards me. I say in my best big voice, “Go home.” And this makes him come closer. Yep, what did I say? Dogs and Men. I turn up my mother-in-laws front walk (our old house sold to the parents when we bought a farm). The dog gets closer. “Go home, Tron.” That’s good, use the Zombie dog’s name. No that’s bad, hearing his name he runs towards me ‘cause one of us is happy to see the other and one of us-yeah, not so much. That was the reason I burst into my mother-in-laws house swearing: I thought I was being attacked by a zombie dog.
Turns out the dog is not actually dead. The moral of story is: when you happen upon a zombie dog check your blood sugar.
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