Wheel Of Possible Misfortune

Every neighborhood had at least one. You know, the dog that would lay in wait and come flying out of the shadows like a ‘bat out of hell’ chasing cars, bicycles… most anything with wheels. Ours was a pack of chihuahuas. They would come yipping from the Bennett’s yard and out into street on a moments notice. Mostly they went after bicyclists, nipping at pant legs and shoe laces. They were more of a nuisance than a real threat to do harm. The threat came from a large mixed-breed dog nicknamed Chopper; he was the car chaser. He lived a couple of blocks over. Nobody messed with Chopper.

But what I saw the other day is one for the books.  It not often that you witness a dog jumping, lunging, pouncing and grabbing at the tires of a push-type lawn mover.  With the blade spinning and grass flying the dog’s tail was wagging with anticipation as the young man moved the mower back and forth cutting short swaths in the grass. I couldn’t believe my eyes…it was without a doubt an accident waiting to happen. You could hear the frustration in the young man’s voice as he yelled for the animal to stop…but that dog was relentless. As long as the mower was moving, so was that dog. 

I held my breath every time the dog lunged at the tires. The battle of dog verses machine must have lasted nearly thirty minutes. I stood riveted. It was like watching the high wire act at the circus without a net. Then the mower stopped and so did the dog. It just walked away as if on cue. 

I saw an opportunity I couldn’t resist. I had to know, so I walked down the block to the bottom of the hill for an answer.

“Excuse me,” I said to the young man as he rested on a spot in the freshly cut grass. “I live up the road and I have got to know…What’s up with the dog and the mower?” He just shook his head from side to side and shrugged his shoulders. 

About that time the dog came running toward me at break neck speed, slowing at the last second, and then sniffing my pant legs. “She won’t bite,” he said. 

That was a relief. “What’s her name,” I asked. 

“Maggie, he replied, “She’s part chocolate Lab and part Pit Bull.” 

She certainly seems friendly enough, I thought…just glad I’m not on wheels.

I admitted to the young man that curiosity had gotten the best of me. “I really don’t know,” he said. “It just happened one day.  She also goes after the weed whip,” again shaking his head. “It caught her across the nose once, but she still won’t stop.”

“Good luck with that,” I said. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it,” I continued, as the young man got to his feet and we shook hands. I headed back up the hill and the mower fired up once again. I could hear Maggie barking in the distance, but I didn’t turn around, I just kept walking.