Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Long morning

Long morning. And it started early.

At about 4:50 AM, as I was leaving the house, my much-better-half asks me:

About that message you took from Adrianne last week. Did she say the appointment today was at 12:30 or 1:30?
Bear in mind, at 4:50 AM, I can’t remember last night, much less last week.

Me: It may have been 1:30 … I can’t recall for sure.
She: Why should you? You only took the message.
Me: And I wrote it down and gave you the note… find the note and you’ll know.
She: Whatever

Great… ‘whatever’ is not the kind of ‘good bye’ I was expecting, but so be it. (Note to self: keep carbon copies of notes you give her.) To be fair, she has a busy schedule – a lot busier than mine – so 12:30 or 1:30 is a pretty big deal. But at that hour of the morning, I can’t be sure of much.

So I pulled my ’92 Blazer to the top of the driveway; I had to remove the bungie cords from the trash pails I put out last night. The cords are used to help deter the huge raccoon I’ve ranted about earlier. I dread dressing for work and putting trash pails out, so the compromise I made is to put the trash out at night, and remove the cords before work (else, the cords would be lost when the guys snap ‘em off before dumping the pails).

As I approach the pails, which are on the passenger side of my driveway, I hear it: a snarl and a gallop. Read More...
My neighbor across the street has a black lab, and he isn’t a friendly pup, make no mistake. In our parts, leash laws are non-existent, and had I crossed the street and even stepped one foot on the driveway, I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear the dog approach. I didn’t know the dog to be violent – the neighbor has an 11 year old daughter – but it is a big hound. And in the pre-dawn hours it sounded like he wanted a piece of me.

But I was on the other side of the street, in my driveway. he driveway slopes into my property, and meets the road at 20° angle, so the headlights are now pointing up and away from the neighbors’ drive – I can see nothing across the street, except his porch-light, some 200’ away. I was on the passenger side of the Blazer: virtual no-man’s land… too far to get back to the driver’s side, and the passenger door would mean I’d have to take the extra step past it in order to open it. Even the Rubbermaid pails stood a few steps out of my reach.

I did the first thing that came to mind. I turned to a fighting stance, the kind I’ve used in Tae Kwon Do for the last 2 years, waiting to ram my foot into the dog. And I snarled.

Yep, I snarled louder than the dog had been at me. In TKD, there are kiyops, the guttural yell you’re supposed to make at the point of impact. This snarl was in no way anything like a kiyop. I’m still not sure why I did it.

In that dim light I had hoped to kick the dog once, maybe in the chops, just enough to push him back. And then I was planning to leap on the hood... that's about as far as I had time to figure.

I didn’t see the dog. But I heard his paws sliding to a stop in the gravel at the edge of his driveway. His snarling stopped, the gallop was noticeably lesser, and a moment later I saw his shadow reach his owners doorstep.

Let’s see how the rest of the day goes…

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