Never Trust a Dog

Do you ever wonder if there were some traumatic episodes in your childhood that are having an impact on the person you are today?

I suppose it is possible but if it weren’t for those incidents, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. That might not be such a bad thing; I could do with some improvement. They say it’s never too late, but then they say you shouldn’t eat too much ice cream. How can you have “too much” ice cream?

Maybe I do have a couple of post traumatic stresses working away under the surface and keeping me from becoming all that I can be. The problem with that kind of stress is that you don’t always know that you have stress or a problem of any kind. You just think that you are normal and we all have the same feelings of doubt and fear. I can remember meeting the woman who lived beside us when I was growing up a number of years ago now and she was happy that I turned out alright in spite of everything. Everything? What everything? As far as I know, I had a very normal upbringing, not so different from anyone else my age. Maybe she had problems.

My older brother did pick on me quite a lot and sometimes the “picking” bordered on torture. Normal right?

There was a time when I was four or so that my parents were visiting friends that lived in the country. These friends had a horse that came with horse stuff like a barn, a corral, hay bales and saddles. My parents and their friends were inside drinking coffee and Steve and I went out to watch the horse. We were cautioned to keep out of the corral but we were welcome to watch, with the promise of a ride later on. Westerns were very big on TV back then and were my favourite shows. The Lone Ranger, Gunsmoke, Wagon Train, Roy Rogers, Maverick and Have Gun Will Travel were never missed. I knew all I needed to know about horses, thank you very much.

I don’t know what happened, but the next thing I knew I was being chased around the corral by 1500 pounds of angry horse. It didn’t take long for the horse to run me down and I was on the ground screaming, crying and the horse was chewing on my hat, coat and a part of my ear. I was told years later that the owner came bursting out of the house and somehow got it off of me. I only had superficial cuts and bruises, but my hat and coat were ruined. I’ve never been much of a horse person since then and that may explain my ambivalence to the Stampede. I don’t like corrals or hay very much either and thankfully the western eventually died out in favour of detective shows, game shows, Fantasy Island and the Love Boat.

I also remember being attacked by a German Sheppard when I was very young. Probably it was just being playful, but to my eyes it was a wolf about to rip my throat out. I never went back to that friend’s house again, even after the devil dog had died. Strange that I eventually became a mailman with dogs attacking on a more or less regular basis. I was prepared however with dog spray and I always wore good, solid leather shoes for personal defence. I always cheer when I hear that a dog has been driven off by the mailman, but more often than not the dog would win the battle.

NEVER TRUST A DOG!!! Man’s best friend they may be, but as long as they have teeth and eat meat you should be vigilant.