It’s late and I’m posting a back-up post, but tonight Beth gave me the perfect picture to go along with it – a down vest! (The water bottle is from Curt, and I love it! love it! love it! I’m actually going to drink water now!!)
I also love the vest, and wish it were colder in here so I could really test it out. We’ll be helping some friends move tomorrow (today, I guess), so I’ll put it through a workout then.
So, without further adieu, Terrible Memories: The Dog and The Vest
I only lived about 12 blocks from my elementary school, but in Western Colorado that can involve a tiny mountain called a mesa. Garnet Mesa, to be exact.
In second grade I told my mom that I was old enough to walk to school by myself. It involved a bit of a climb up the mesa, but it was a gravel road and no big deal, so she said ‘yes’. (In today’s times there would be absolutely no way.)
I was so proud of myself. I was wearing my new-to-me puffy down vest (it was orange), and thought I was the bees knees walking along in it. I walked down the street, up the mesa, a few more blocks….
…. and there was a big white dog.
Unchained.
On the sidewalk.
Looking at me.
With teeth.
Now, I am and have always been a cat person, so I had no doggie skills whatsoever, and this happened many decades ago so I’m very hazy on the next few seconds. What I remember is trying to walk past the dog, the dog taking off after me, and then suddenly being jerked backwards by the teeth sunk into my vest. In my memory it was a horrible scene with slobbering and violence and fleeing, but in reality it was probably just a normal-sized dog that bit my vest and laughed watching the second grader flee.
There was definitely fleeing.
At school I must have recounted the story to my friends, but I definitely remember the teeth marks in the vest.
That was the best. I was a total martyr/hero for one day.
Thanks, dog, for my 15 minutes of coolness.
Brad says
It’s hard to speak dog nonverbals when you only know cats. My body language apparently always says: “Jump around and get louder and more excitable until your owner yells angrily at you”
Peggy says
I’m so glad you weren’t eaten on that dreadful, yet heroic day!
I remember a big red dog that used to roam our neighborhood when I was a kid. We would all be out in the alley playing & someone would yell, ‘Big Red’….and we’d all scamper into yards, onto fences, behind trash cans. And Big Red would just pass by. We’d come out like…Whew! But now that I think about it, he was probably just looking for a friend. Sorry Big Red. (we never knew his real name)
Kristi says
That sounds like Clifford to me.
Peggy says
Big Red was an Irishsetter. I couldn’t recall that when I commented before.
Lloyd says
HEY! What about Art Shot Saturday?!? I demand my money back!
Amy says
aw 🙁 I like doggies
I hope most other ones are nice to you >_<