Yesterday the neighborhood pit bull got loose from his owner, free to bound from one house to another, and making no stir whatsoever. We all know this sweetheart is friendly, so there is no fear. One thing this dog is not is co-operative. Obedient. Easy to handle. Compliant. How's that for one thing? He is none of these, and when a large and speedy dog like that gets loose, well, you can just sit back and wait, or run your silly self into the ground trying to catch him. Up steps the Silly Self(s).
Ronnie Dale had gone out to run errands, meaning I have no idea where he went. And as he returned home and pulled into our drive he saw Silly Self #1, the owner of the pit bull charging and darting here and there, with lofty visions of tackling said dog before he got completely out of the sub-division. The guy was panting harder than the dog and as red as the morning sun. (I'm just repeating what I was told. You wouldn't catch me out there, so I saw nothing personally. Besides, it was 90*! So, I will relate to you the story the way it was related to me by the neighbor man across the street who watched it all from his living room window. Smart man.)
Silly Self #1 had parked his hind side on the turf for a much-needed breather, and now the fun begins. Ronnie Dale emerges from our beautiful, white Equinox and takes in the situation. I can mentally see him rubbing his palms together with that dangerous twinkle in his eyes and his feet are beginning to dance in place. Yes. Those same feet whose ankles are covered in titanium from a horrible fall he took a few years back when he smashed his ankle bones into thousands of pieces.
It's almost as if Clark Kent had been in the phone booth (the Chevy), but instead, came out of the phone booth as Ronnie Dale in a Superman costume about three sizes too small. He had always been very fast, but at age 68 with titanium feet, being fast is just a pffffft of a memory. But, in his mind, here he is; the neighborhood savior, the answer to all prayers about dogs, the go-to guy from the bench, the great dog catcher! Silly Self #2 steps up to the plate, and the first swing was far from a hit. The pit bull charged past as Ronnie Dale lunged and fell face down in the dirt. Silly Self #1 chuckled to himself, then they both struggled to their feet.
We used to play dodge ball when we were in grade school. Rough game, because the object is to smash someone with the ball. But, this dog had no ideas of even touching anyone or tagging them in any way. The big men ran and lunged. They tell me that Ronnie Dale even got on his hands and knees to imitate a dog, female I suppose, to lure in the runaway. But, no deal.
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| drawing by Shirley Schmuck |
I take it back. It was just two little boys making friends in the neighborhood and admiring their muddy faces and torn shirts. Two sweet little munchkins whose mamas would be so proud because the pit bull was home where he was safe, and the boys were, well, the boys were just being boys.
