Part 2: When is a big ol’ scary dog not just a big ol’ scary dog?

(If you’re just tuning in, read yesterday’s post first …)

Extremely-large-and-scary-Dog turned his head slowly and stared at me as if to say, “I KNOW you didn’t just talk to me like that!” Then he snarled, exhibiting his big ol’ teeth and commenced to barking.

This was one of those barks that makes your stomach come up in your throat and your legs turn to jelly. It was one of those barks that tells you exactly where you stand in the dog’s eyes. The kind that let you know that he could clear the short little bushes in between you and him if he so chose.

And in that moment – I did what any normal person does. I froze. (I may have even uttered a word that I’m glad the girls weren’t around to hear, but if I did, I’ve erased that from my memory) And, really, it’s all sort of fuzzy, but I believe my next very faint words were, “Help me, Lord.” And if they didn’t come out of my mouth…He KNEW they were in my heart. There was NO way I could get to my door without making that dog come after me.

Miraculously, *yes, miraculously*, that dog turned and sauntered out of my yard and into my neighbor’s yard. He made his way down the street and out of sight.

I called animal control. I explained the sitch and that the dog was probably long gone, but I needed to report his aggressive behavior (AND unlawful trespassing! we do have leash laws, ya know). As soon as I hung up, he was walking down the street in front of our yard. I called animal control again. (technically, it was the Sheriff’s office, cause they dispatch animal control, but anyway…)

I relayed all this info to my mom and sister tonight. They were none to pleased. My mom told me to make sure I had my B.B. gun handy in case I needed it. An hour or two later, my sister sends me a text message that challenged me to look deeper into the situation.



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