Dogfight

I haven't mentioned my dog or Bush for quite awhile. Of course, one of those topics is not really interesting enough for a Doc Blog so I'll write about the other.

I took my dog Gus for a long walk yesterday. He was thrilled and I was tired of stair climbing. It was a nice day, sunny and warm and we bopped along taking our individual pleasures. For me that was mostly through my eyes which darted from one bit of beautiful Panama to another and through my ears which were tunneling P.G. Wodehouse's "Hot Water" into my consciousness via my Walkman's ear plugs. Gus, as usual, was getting his kicks through his nose which led him to piles of other dog's poop, a thing that thrills him to no end, horse manure, a thing that requires rolling in, and invisible spoors of invisible creatures that make him wander into the jungle forcing me to whistle him back. Being a "Good Boy" he always returns. Neither of us was paying much attention when another dog, fortunately tied to a tree near its indian shack home, started going beserk in that let me at 'em, I'll tear 'em limb from limb way that dogs have when protecting their homestead and sometimes for seemingly no reason at all. I think I have mentioned on some other occassion that Gus is not adverse to a good scrap from time to time. He's real clear about what's his turf, but a bit dense when it comes to recognizing the boundaries of another dog and the other dog in this case was some kind of a hound mix going a bit over twice as large as Gus. Gus was undeterred and off the leash. For those of you who don't know Gus, he's a Cocker Spaniel who would look good posing next to a turn-of- the- century woman, all long dress, bonnet and parasol in a Rockwell painting, but looks seriously out of place in a dog fight. I, on the other hand, was completely deterred and thinking what would Jesus do right now. The hell I was! I was thinking what would Cesar Milan the Dog Whisperer do and it came to me that it was pay no mind, act like the other dog wasn't even there and walk on by. So that is what I did. Theoretically, your dog will take his cue from you and in actuality, what-do-you-know, that's how it worked. Gus was snarling his little snarl and puffing his hair like a porcupine as he closed on the other mutt, but the further away I got the less interest he showed in the fight until, eventually, he just abandoned it and ran to catch up with me. Neat.

But that's only the half of it. Later that day I got to thinking about how brave dogs are and my dog in particular. Little Gus was going to take on a dog twice his size. TWICE his size. I decided then and there that I needed to be as brave as my dog. It's only fair. So the next time I run into a guy 12 feet tall weighhing 320 pounds. I am going to KICK HIS ASS. No one smaller wll do.