Dogs Love Me, or Do They?

Well, maybe not all dogs. I seem to remember a Doberman Pincer when I was about 10 who scared the ever lovin’ crap out of me. We lived just a block from a convenience store and my mom told me to walk myself up to the store to get a gallon of milk. It was my very first time allowed to go to the store by myself. I only ever walked to school and home. There was no wandering the neighborhood or anything, so you can imagine how proud and happy I was. I was finally growing up!

So I’m sauntering down the street. Okay, it was more like skipping and muttering “One gallon of milk, one gallon of milk” the entire way. The street curved so there was a blind spot ahead. I didn’t pay any attention. But when I came around that curve, there was a huge Doberman sitting on the edge of its property. It saw me and barked. I saw it and stopped dead in my tracks. I went cold because that sucker had huge teeth and its head was at the same height as my throat. It stood and barked again. I took a step back, all thoughts of milk, being a grown-up, and anything else I might’ve been thinking of fading away.

It took a step forward and I screamed, “MOOOOOOOOOOOOM!” and took off running. The dog kind of yiped and ran back to its yard. I don’t know if it was scared by my lung capacity, my graceless running, or the thought that my mom – who was in our house a block away – might’ve heard her daughter’s cry for help and come to handle up on it. I ran the entire way home, waiting to feel that dog’s teeth in my leg, butt, head, whatever. Images of my mother finding me torn to shreds played through my head. I made it home, panting, sweating, and crying like…well, like a little girl. My mom, who was making pancakes and needed that milk, turned around and said, “Where’s the milk?”

I hated dogs after that. I wouldn’t play with them, didn’t trust them, and thought they were goofy. Then, I got a dog and now I’m a convert. Dogs love me. It’s really embarrassing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come home with a pit bull in my yard trying to get in my house because…well, I’m just that awesome apparently.

So really, it shouldn’t be any surprise when Tawna Fenske (a hilarious lady with a unique way of picking contest winners) allowed her dog to choose the winner of her What the @#$% is that? contest, her dog chose my ball. Bwahahaha. Now, if it had been a cat picking the winner, then no doubt the cat would’ve gone to my ball and peed on it. That’s just how cool I am.

What a way to start the week!

6 Comments

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6 responses to “Dogs Love Me, or Do They?

  1. I had a similar experience with dogs, except he was a German Shephard and he DID chase me and DID bite me (on the waist).

    So when the family bought a dog for my sister’s birthday (I was 8 or 9), you can imagine MY reaction. But Mikey was a sweetheart and I fell in love with dogs after that.

  2. KAK

    ~wiping tears of laughter from eyes~ I don’t know if imagining the look on your face when your mother asked, “where’s the milk” is more hilarious than your expression upon finding your house under perpetual siege by a sweet pitbull.

    I raise a fist of beastie molt in salute!

    • It isn’t just the pitbulls. My uncle had a Jindo which I know killed another dog, bit someone, yet wanted to kiss me. *shudders* She scared the crap out of me, especially when I was trying to cook and she decided she wanted a piece of sausage and stood up to snag it off the counter. I fussed her and she gave me a look like, “But I’m so sweet…with sharp teeth that can kill a tiger…don’t you want to feed me?”

      • KAK

        “Ya know, on second thought, I can always go to the store and get more sausage…if that Dobie isn’t there.”

      • LMAO and as I was reminding my mom of this incident yesterday, she reminded me that I was only a block away from the store when the dog scared the hell out of me. FAILED

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