Topic: Dailies

Cookies

by

Leo Crocker Rogers

Every night for about 2,200 nights, Skipper, my dog, and I take a walk at night. A friend established this ritual for Skipper and me many years ago. We both look forward to the walk. It is his excursion outside the "box" in which he delights.

Along the way, there are several homes that have dogs in the back yard. Both Skipper and I have become accustom to the dogs slamming into the side yard gates trying to bolt for us. It used to scare the wits out of me. Even knowing which houses were going to be the attack houses. When the a large dog, I mean a 120 pound dog throws himself violently onto a gate, it rattles the entire fence. You can even hear the latch rattle. Some of the dogs are so large that they peer over a five foot fence. While I am poised as I walk. I have many times looked near these house for places that I can, after grabbing Skipper, run and jump on top of a car or climb to a position in a tree or on top of a fence that will give Skipper and me some safety. However, I no longer recoil. You know the story about "Woof, Woof."

Tonight was different. Now Skipper is a mature dog who even in his youth was not a fighter. He was social with other dogs, but only for a few minutes. Then he would walk away. If they barked loudly and nipped at him. He simply looked them in their eyes and stood his ground. They backed down. This has happened hundreds of times. He is one cool dog. Skipper weighs about 19 pounds. I weigh about 135. We are not exactly a formidable force. But we do have fun, and when we meet other people and their dogs, we are the cool set, controlled, mannered, with and air aplomb.

So along went tonight. It is dark, the wind is blowing about 15 knots, a storm is brewing, there is lightening in the distance, and rain is possible. Skipper is not on a leash. We stay within 20 meters of each other as we walk. THEN like F-16s swooping down into the rice patties, two huge dogs come from nowhere barking at the top of their lungs and their nails clicking on the concrete like buck shot bouncing off the side of a barn. The larger dog, some 150 pounds was black. The beige dog was likely about 90 pounds. I turned to face them. They both skirted me and pounced on Skipper. The black one had Skipper in his mouth. I grab the black by the neck and pulled him off Skipper. The beige did not engage but watched. The flesh on the black was easy to hold, and I turned him around to face me. He barked so loudly that I reflexed.. This was one big fellow. Between the Black and the Beige, we were clearly out-gunned. I made eye contact with Black. Now let me tell you that there was no thought to what happened next. I was responded instinctively. I was not afraid. But I could see that things needed to be recalibrated.. In my grasp, Black stopped barking so loudly and looked at me. Even with my most powerful grip on his neck, I could tell he was allowing me to hold him. He could have ripped away at will. Skipper did not run, or bark, nor attack, but stood ready. While holding Black with my right hand, I stroked Black’s face with my left. More accurately, I grabbed Black’s snout and jaws and let him know I had some strength. He liked that. He stopped thrashing and stood still. I then used my right hand to grab larger hunks of this back and give him some rough attention. He liked that too. When I released him with my left hand he went for Skipper, but he was not bitting Skipper even thought he had Skipper in his mouth. I pulled Black off Skipper again. He tuned to me. I turned to black. He barked, and I calmly talked to him. I also put my arm around his neck and hugged him, more like a head lock. He never showed his teeth. He just ate up the attention. He calmed so much that I thought Skipper and I could resume our walk. Black broke free and blocked my passage. I pushed him aside, and he came right back. But Skipper had taken a few steps ahead. Black went in front of Skipper and pushed him back to me. I tried four times to restart our walk and Black would not let it happen. So I stood and Skipper sat. Beige watched. We tried to start three more times. No go. At one of the starts Black came up to me and rubbed his head against me. Okay. So I petted Black. Then I petted Skipper at the same time. I did this for two minutes or so. Black relaxed. So Skipper and I started again. Black really lit his after-burners. His barking was so loud that I thought surely some home owner would come outside. None did. With Black’s barking, he positioned himself in front of us and pushed us back. He did not want us to leave. So I talked to him about Skipper and me and that if he so desired, he could come with us. So I grabbed the back of his neck and forced him to come with us. That lasted for about four steps and he broke free and blocked our way again. So Skipper and I waited. In a while, maybe a minute or so, Black broke off his position holding us and went into the street and Beige joined him. They started to walk away. So slowly Skipper and I began our walk. Bang, with very loud barks and a few huge steps, Black was in our way. He wished us not to leave that area. I can imagine his exasperation in our not understanding his very clear message to us. So I petted him sort of like a gorilla would pet a parakeet. He loved it. I seriously doubt that I could harm that dog. His head was huge, his paws like feet, and this skin like cow hide. He was a formidable force. After the petting session he rubbed up against me and licked my arms and in general said "thank you." He then departed. And beige too. Skipper and I then, as cool as could be, no feathers ruffled, continued our walk. Likely, Black and Beige had never meant any harm. It was just that dogs that large when they want to play or be affectionate are very aggressive, certainly compared to Skipper.

So safe and sound, Skipper and I made it home for a hot dog, milk, and two carrots. Those were all for Skipper. I was grateful to be safe at home. I ate a cookie.

All God’s creatures love to be loved. All.

In my walk around the block with Skipper I could start carrying a .45 hand gun to protect my loved dog and myself from formidable enemies, banish them with a deadly round. Even if I had to fire a round, I could call it self-defense and likely no neighbor would even open their door to be a witness. Or I could carry some cookies.

I’ll bet that there is not a military service man, of any country, that would not be grateful for an Oreo cookie. I wonder that if in place of slugs for M-16s, our service men carried a cartridge belt of Oreos, if things would not be better for the world.

Me, I am going to carry cookies on our next walk.

As goes the neighborhood, so goes the city. As goes the city, so goes the state. As goes the state, so goes the country. As goes countries, so goes the world. One dog at a time.

I kid you not, in the Bible there is a statement that "one man saved an entire city". I’ll bet he did not do it with a gun. Eccl 9:15