Big dogs

My roommates were telling me about English Mastiffs last night reminding me of my two favorite large dog stories.

Doberman on Covey Ln.

I don't quite remember how old I was. I think I was probably 6, maybe 7 and my little brother, Stephen, was 3 or 4. As for the story, I remember bits and pieces, but mostly, the story has just been told so many times, I remember how to tell it.

My family took walks around the neighborhood sometimes, and this evening we decided to walk up Covey Ln. It was probably close to dusk, but still light out. It was pretty quiet; nobody was really out in their yards. People were probably eating or watching tv. We were just walking along. Dad was probably pointing out plants or places people needed to repair things. I was probably trying to talk a lot, and Stephen was probably too little to really be with it. Mom was probably keeping us friendly with each other.

Out of nowhere, a doberman the size of me (at the time) comes bounding up unexpectedly barking and growling at us. We hadn't seen it until we were passing the house it came from, so it had probably just come through the gate. It snarls at us and bites my dad on the butt.

Mom instructed Stephen and I to WALK to the corner. I've always had a thing for performing under pressure, and I'm sure I felt very old and in charge talking calmly to Stephen as we walked to the corner. Dad came up soon after. There were bite marks on the jeans (meaning, the dog had bit hard), but none went through to the skin. Chuckling, Dad said "I'm sure glad I'm wearing my new Levi's!"

posted by Sarah @ 11:23 AM