The Big Thug

My sister in-law, Cherie, just called to tell me Don’t Lick the Dog saved her life. Was the book pressed to her chest as a stray comet hurtled into her? Did it act as a wedge to stop the wheels of her car from slipping down an isolated  muddy ravine? Did she bop an attacker’s head (or elsewhere) with the book?

Too literal, it was literally literary.

Cherie’s quick thinking saves her bacon.

Cherie is a beloved teacher at an elementary school by day, census taker by weekend. Last Sunday she was census taking in a not-so-very-nice neighborhood. She approached one house, the door wide open, screen door ajar. Suddenly an enormous dog lunges through the door and jumps on her, growling and snarling. Cherie screams and tries to run and shrug off the angry buster. She realizes there is no way she can get him off or get away and panics – What to do!

Cherie has read Don’t Lick the Dog so many times to her kids she remembers the advice to stand still. She thinks, ‘this better work or I’m in big trouble.’ Somehow she makes herself stop and freeze in place. I know how hard that is to do, ’cause I’ve been there too. The dog drops from her neck and shoulders (!) and stands next to her, growling. Cherie does not move. The dog stands. She stands.

Tick tock. ‘Now what?’ she thinks, ‘Can I call out?’ She does so, very softly. Dog does not react. She calls out again, a little louder. Still nothing. Finally she is shouting for help. No one comes. No one comes. Where is everyone?

Now what. Can she inch away? Yes. She remembers to keep her side to the dog and moves the tiniest bit to her right. Nothing. Again, another step, and another and another. Finally she gets outside the gate and walks toward her car. She looks behind her and what do you think that big lunk is doing? He’s taking a nap.

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