Doggone it, it Happened Again!

Greetings, readers. Today’s entry in 30+ Days of Fitness has a twist. Perhaps it might amuse you. However, I am still recovering from the incident and hope to stop rocking in the corner any time now.

We left Arlington,VA, and drove down Virginia through North Carolina, down near the border of South Carolina. These last two states suck. No, not because they truly suck. But because when you drive down through the northern states, you whip through Massachusetts and Connecticut and other smaller states like Delaware, but then you come down here and the state never ever ever ends. The exit ramps number into the HUNDREDS!

After eight hours in the car, early muscle atrophy set in—at least that’s what it feels like when trapped motionless like that in a giant piece of steel—so I was itching to get out for a run or something. But we took the kids to the beach in the morning. I never go in the water up north because the temperatures are frigid, but the water here is much more acceptable for human submersion. While the kids and I jumped into the waves, I tried to think of a way as counting it as part of a workout for the day. I mean if water aerobics counts, then surely forming a human shield and jumping core-first against the waves should as well. Agree? Well, it was worth a shot.

I’m not a beach person so after two hours in the sun, I felt depleted of all energy and good humor. Tea was necessary. But, I could not let the day go by without doing some sort of workout, especially after that car ride. I left for a run, both for my sanity and consideration of anyone who wanted to spend any time with me that day. So as I ran through palm tree-filled residences, I contemplated life, decisions, people, human nature, and more. Occasionally I caught myself singing along with a wailing Courtney Love as I listened to Hole’s Live through This, an album I will never tire of, perhaps to the chagrin of the neighbors.

What happened next is something I could not make up, despite my active writer’s imagination. One minute left on my run, my in-laws house in sight, and something reached out and scratched my bum! WTH? Who goes around scratching people on the buttocks?

No—not who, what goes around scratching people on the buttocks. Cautiously, I looked down.


Perhaps this is not as terrifying to you, dear reader. You might be thinking, so what. But I tell you, to me a German dog puppy jumping on me wanting to play evokes the same terror of a bear mauling me to ribbons. It is a irrational fear, I know, but I find it more rational that fear of snakes, spiders, heights, or the weird one I’ve heard of—cats.

“Aggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!” I yelled. “Nooooo!! Stop!! Get down. Down! DOWN!”

The nimcompoop owner sporting dreadlocks next door had been talking on his stupid cell phone. I have no idea what he was doing while I fended off the attack. But he is forever branded in my head as “Stupid Dummyhead.” Ever hear of a leash? Fence? Picking up your dog’s poop?

Yes, I realize that the dog’s tail was wagging and he just wanted to play. Yes, I realize it’s an irrational fear. But it’s one that repeatedly plays itself out in my life. Dogs sense my wariness about them, I imagine, and decide to terrorize me. Maybe they just want to play. Maybe they want to spill my blood. I don’t know and I don’t want to stick around to find out. I’m much better than I used to be as I can co-exist in the same room as a dog for many hours at a time these days, but apparently I’m still not cured. Because I ran into the house to go into hiding.

In reply to my “Why do they always pick me?!” wail, Eric burst out laughing.

“He just wants to play with you.”

My father-in-law asked, “Was it the German Shephard puppy? Or the Doberman?”

Now my pride was suffering. My attacker was just a puppy who wanted to play?

But wait, did he say Doberman? Holy shit. It could’ve been worse.

Much much worse.

I don’t know what I will do tomorrow. Will I suck it up and brave the terrors living next door? Or find another way out?

Find out soon…

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