At Least They're Committed

My shin has nearly stopped itching . . . and after only four weeks. It’s not the Edenpure‘s fault. I love that thing and it kept my dad warm when his circulation had slowed. No, it’s my fault for leaving it in the sunroom, in the path to the back door, and jaunting out there in the dark to let Max out. I hit it with my right shin and flipped over the top onto the floor. It took off, oh, about six of the seven layers of shin-skin.

Why would I be walking around in the dark? The question is more, why would I not be walking around in the dark? I’m so aware of ‘darkness’ during the day, there’s not a lot of difference.

Today, as Max and I strolled over lunch on the path toward the high school — him stopping occasionally to mark his territory and me to itch the flaking scabs on my shin — we spied a bundle under the wooden bridge above the creek that follows the path.

“Damn,” I stopped. “Whatever shall I do?”

There was a twisted lump of what looked like an old coat, matted and wet, motionless below the arch of the walk.

“That’s either a bridge troll waiting to pounce (What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen sparrow?),” I pondered. “Or perhaps the corpse of a woebegone transient.” (A newspaper headline from the ’70s — I had to look up what it meant.)

I cautiously approached with Max weaving back and forth in front of me sniffing and completely unaware of the dangers ahead. As I got closer, it became apparent that it was merely a gathering of smooth, water-worn rocks.

Well OK then. I should have known when Max wasn’t the least bit alarmed. Plus, most people wouldn’t have thought that in the first place — evidently, I have a more macabre imagination than most.

With Max’s lack of response, I recalled watching dogs being tested by their owners on whether they’d defend them in their own homes should a bad guy/gal/other force his/her/other way in and start ravaging them. It was appalling to see so many of these lovely larger breeds go about eating their dinner when “Mom” was being eaten for dinner (metaphorically).

It got me wondering if we’ve done this to ourselves. Max is a freak when he sees other dogs on our walk. He wasn’t when I first got him, but after he was attacked by an ugly, feral, 120-pound dog while in his own backyard, he got it in his head that if I couldn’t defend him (I tried, I jumped on that dogs back and beat it until my fists were bruised), he must defend me. Thus it seems since then that no training, education nor conditioning can convince him otherwise.

I now wonder, were these uninvolved, well-behaved canines on TikTok so well-trained that defending their person was no longer part of the deal?

The small dogs in these videos, well, damn, they did their best to protect their mommies. But, again, small dogs never really understand the concept of the human being the alpha (which is a myth, I’ve heard, but you get the picture).

Thus it stands to reason that many people’s lives have been saved because of noisy dogs. From interviews I had done in my relative youth as a newspaper reporter, I knew not to plant evergreen trees or juniper bushes on the sides of the porch — too easy for bad guys to hide and pounce. Also, light the paths to your house, keep your front porchlight on, lock your doors and windows, be aware of your surroundings (such as trolls under bridges). Check, check, check. All good to know.

However, another safety tip is one I marvel at that not all people do: Own a dog. (If they’re allergic, they could get a fake one, right? Like an animatronic?)

I have watched documentaries on the infamous Night Stalker, Richard Ramirez, among others and each time I look for any indication of a dead dog. You know, “Laying at the victim’s feet was the decapitated corpse of her labradoodle, Anastasia.” And each time I am struck by the presence of their absence. None of those victims had a dog.

I looked it up to see if indeed having a dog thwarts burglars and other even more nefarious characters, and the research resoundingly indicates, YES! How often have the Mad Max’s of the universe been life-savers and we don’t even know it?

Thus (I stop mid-step to scratch again) I can forgive and even appreciate my mutt’s overzealous defense mechanisms, screechy bark, excessive leaping about and growling. I love him to the moon and back and I’d be lost emotionally without him. People with dogs stay more lucid and live longer and healthier as well. The evidence is clear: Don’t want to die? Get a dog!