Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Junkyard Dogs

I’m one of those people who doesn’t exercise by choice. Granted, I’ve always done it, but for me, it’s like brushing my teeth. Do it because you have to or you’ll pay a terrible price. With the marvelous invention of the iPod, I had actually come to enjoy my somewhat daily run. Okay - I walk as much I run, but I’m out there, so what’s the diff. That is, until my neighbor started keeping his dogs outside. There are 3 rat terrors (is that supposed to be terrier?) that come after me daily. These little monsters are junkyard dogs. (They are mean and they live in what has come to be a junkyard, but that’s a story for another day.) They are little, but vicious. Now it’s interesting to note that I run with 3 big dogs that do not serve as any deterrent at all. Builderman and I have 2 black labs that could not terrorize a flea. I am also accompanied by a boxer who has adopted me. He is muscular and keeps grown men trembling in their trucks and using their cell phones to call for assistance when thy come to our house - and he’s not my dog! (Belongs to yet another neighbor.) For some reason, he's also afraid of these junkyard dogs. They nip and yip and gnash their teeth and carry on like nobody’s business. They definitely bite, as Cupcake lost a chunk of her shoe one day.

Now I usually like dogs just fine. But these dogs are asking for it. Builderman gave me some pepper spray for Christmas. (He’s the ever-practical gift buyer.) I now run prepared for battle. I have yet to spray one of the suckers as they are so fast. I think I need the kind of spray that shoots like a firehose. I now have great sympathy for all of the mailmen, meter readers and other friendly folks who would rather keep the flesh on their legs intact than pretend like they like your dog. A few bad ones can make all the rest look really bad. Kinda like people. I’m going to keep on running.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Oh exercise . . . I remember something in the far, far, corners of my mind that faintly resembled my body in kick butt shape.

Until they got a new gym this year, every time I went to one of my dad's girls basketball games, I had to be reminded of my former thin, super duper in shape self by staring it in the face on a life size photo celebrating our state championship.

Now they have a new gym with no such photo. At least I can be fat in peace. There's something to be said for that.

(I say pepper spray those little terrors!)