Side Trail
Doggonit!
Leslie Johnson
It was about eight in the morning, I had taken a shower and discovered when I peered out the curtain, there were no towels. There were some in the dryer, but nobody was home to fetch me one, and the laundry area was two rooms over and right by the back door, which was open for the breeze. I wasn’t really worried about it, we had some dense shade trees and a pretty high fence separating us from neighbors facing that side, and although the deck could be seen from the street, I wasn’t going that far. Jake, the shepherd/wolf cross, is darn near tall enough for a little old woman to hide behind, and the six Shar-peis we had at that time were as good as geese for watch dogs, I figured they’d bark if anyone was around.
As I went by the back door, I saw Joy, my Walking mare, standing right in front of the long box I’d put on the deck to grow Mums in. BD had long ago decided there wasn’t a lawnmower made that would fit his hands, and why mow when the horses could graze it for nothing. He just left the gate open between the backyard and the barn yard, and let them amble through at will. Joy had discovered a hobby even more fun than popping the clothes pins off the laundry on the line, or passing between the folds of the wet quilts, cooling her dusty body off; grabbing my flowers out of the containers, roots and all, slinging the dirt everywhere, and then tossing them aside as she chose her next one.
I yelled at her to get away, hunted for a towel in the dryer, then flapped it at her several times. Unperturbed, she nosed a likely looking plant, mouthed around the edges thoughtfully, then prepared to take hold of it. Furious, I yelled at her even louder, and tried to pop her with the towel, all without leaving the laundry room of course. The dogs were in a frenzy over the towel “game”, and began to leap around trying to catch it. Batting them away from it, I whipped it around my torso and barged out the door, screaming like a banshee, just as she snatched the biggest plant out of the dirt and bolted away.
I got half way across the deck when three or four of the dogs caught the bottom of the towel and tried to jerk it away. Holding on to it for dear life, I yelled at them, and danced around kicking as the Pack closed in barking and grabbing. They weren’t biting me, but they were scratching the tar out of me with their claws. Then Jake launched himself from the doorway, caught the top of the towel around my back, twisted, and we all went down.
I lost the towel, got rolled around in the dirt Joy scattered, and board burned in some interesting places. I stopped yelling to catch my breath, and I realized someone else was screaming, out by the road. I threw myself flat on the deck, trying to drag the towel towards me with most of the dogs still attached to it, and saw the roadman for the garbage truck pounding on the truck door, shrieking like a girl. The driver, evidently unnerved by the whole “savage” scene, had locked the doors on both sides.
“They’re killin’ her, oh Gawd, open the door! Open the door, damn you!” he screamed, jerking on the handle. Jumping down off the running board, he raced to the other side, just as the rattled driver finally found first gear and with a grinding roar, surged away. The roadman managed to grab the handle on the rear of the truck and leaped for the bumper, his horrified face staring at me over his arm as they took the corner on one set of wheels. I admit it, I laughed until I cried!
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