A younger neighbor girl was really good about walking another neighbor’s dog. She loved dogs. I did not (At least not a complete stranger’s dog).
When I was young I was always shorter than my peers. I hated how dogs seemed to like picking me out of a crowd. I’m sure they were just playing but dogs can get rough especially when running in a pack. I remember a few of my friend’s dogs liked jumping near my face and nipping at my nose, whether I was running away or not. Dog owners often don’t train their dogs to behave well on or off of a leash.
Maybe dogs sensed my unease. I tried to not show it as the beagle approached with her master for the day. The dog walked erratically from one side of the sidewalk to the other tugging her along. It sniffed the grass, the pavement, and then my leg. “Oh, don’t worry, he’s friendly,” the little girl said. That’s when that dumb mutt sniffed my crotch, and then–that’s right, you probably guessed it–it bit me right in the unmentionables.
I recoiled and then instinctively punched that supposed hunting companion–man’s assumed best friend–right in the nose. Don’t get me wrong. One of my favorite books is about hunting dogs, “Where the Red Fern Grows,” and my family has even had a few dogs through the years. but I hate Beagles to this day. The dog yelped and whimpered as it hauled the little girl away. “What did you do that for?” She screamed. “I’m telling!”
“Go right ahead,” I yelled. “That dog bit me,” I moaned.
She went on and on about how that was impossible and that that dog was the nicest, smartest dog on the block. I didn’t have time to argue. I went home to check out the teeth marks. I didn’t really want to show anyone the evidence. Luckily, it was superficial enough and the dog was current on shots so that I didn’t have to go to the doctor or press charges.
