Have you ever had a dog run to you a little too fast? Apply the brakes only to skid past; gripping toe nails toss turf into the air as they slide beyond the mark. We’ve all been there; right?
Picture my front yard, thirty to forty feet of grass plateau with sudden sixty foot drop off. We call it the infinity yard.
Our newcomer, Bluto sounds pretty bad ass about protecting his home. Bluto hates loud rap music; he gets spitting through his teeth, I will rip the tar out of you worked up. Barking may last a full minute after the sound is well down the road.
Boom, boom, boom; everybody alerts to it. Boom, boom down the hill road causes a collective aw, shit. Bluto growls; for a moment he’s in a freeze frame ears forward, ready to spring. Boom, boom; the sound heralds the way for the broken down piece of thundering towards us.
With as close to a doggy, oh, hell no, as I’ve ever seen, Bluto jumps up, springs forward like he’s going to lead the charge of the light brigade down our driveway.
Remember he’s a home boy; he doesn’t usually go beyond halfway down the drive. Boom, boom, boom; it’s getting closer.
Bluto charges back up the drive, runs around the veranda to the side facing the road.
BOOM, BOOM getting really loud, dog doesn’t stop growling and running; he runs past where we are sitting like a shot. He races back to see the culprit coming. This is one hot hound dog!
The other dogs stand poised for action, watching Bluto.
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM; he flies off the porch and more than halfway or twenty feet across the infinity yard. So about this point hauling ass pissed off boy changes the forward body posture to brakes; where ARE my brakes!
You could smell the pads burning, as paws hit the earth in three big grasping attempts to call the whole thing to a halt. The skid marks end at the edge, where the angry dog barked his message for but a moment or two.
He managed a ceremonious strut to the nearest bush to relieve himself.
The adrenaline rush over Bluto settled next us for a long nap.
Did he dream of sailing through the air or landing on the car’s windshield? Perhaps, he wondered if we noticed.
Happy wiggle butts, Tricia
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