Every time Im coming in off the ranch, I turn down a short, eighth mile private drive that leads to my house, cutting across a pasture. Once I make that turn, my dog is always waiting for me. I then have two choices; race the dog, or not race the dog, thus making him rabid and ensuring he will try his damnedest to bite my ankle. (This is on a four wheeler) Sometimes in the evening Im tired and Ill ride back to the house sidesaddle, both legs on one side. Tonight was such a night. I was also on Facebook, so I did not see nor hear the dog going rabid. The first clue of his rabidity dawned on me right about the time a bear trap snapped shut on my ankle, and now Ive got one foot on the floorboard and the other about five feet away, being eaten, at like 30mph. This yanks the throttle hand towards me, so now Im cutting a donut with a hundred pound dog completely off the ground swinging by his teeth from my boot. My groin muscles are snapping like guitar strings at this point and Im screaming curses in a new language at the dog, who finally realizes that were both going to die, and he would rather just me die so he lets go and gets slung off in the bushes somewhere. I run over my own leg, then get to use my chewed on, run over leg to stop the friggin four wheeler from rolling over on me. So, time for MORE Aleve. Also, I did not drop my phone during all of this, because priorities.
Posted on: Tue, 05 Aug 2014 02:50:01 +0000
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