Something Carli commented on recently reminded me about a time, long, long ago, when there was a German Shepherd Incident. 

Carli and I often took long walks in the neighborhood.  This day was no different.  We would walk to the donut shop on the corner, we would walk to Taco Johns, we would walk to Downey Drugs to buy some penny candy (before those bastards jacked the price up to a nickel).  I can’t remember where we were coming from on this particular day, but we passed a barking dog.

It was a German Shepherd on the opposite side of the street.  It was pissed.  And it was loud.  And lucky for us, it was entrapped safely behind a chain link fence.  The house that the German Shepherd belonged to had seen better days.  Like a lot of houses in that town, it was pretty much falling apart. 

I think we were about ten years old, give or take a year.  Our brains had not fully developed.  This will become pretty obvious in the rest of the story.  The dog was barking at us like crazy.  So we decided to bark back from across the street.  We made obnoxious ten-year old faces and barked back in a very antagonizing manner.  And the German Shepherd barked louder, and got angrier.

This is pretty much exactly what it looked like, with a crappier yard.

This is pretty much exactly what it looked like, with a crappier yard.

And then it leapt over the fence.  Just like that.  

A furry ballerina with saliva-dripping fangs of doom.

Time slowed down for us.  I think we heard someone say Ooooohhhhhh Shhiiiiiiit in slow motion, but maybe that was the Voice of the Universe lamenting on the fact that two ten year old girls were about to become kibble.  We both started running, Forrest Gump style, as fast as we could toward home, which was still two blocks away. 

The German Shepherd was chasing us.  It was barking and hungry for kids and chasing us!  We were sprinting like holy hell.  And a thought popped into my mind as we were running.  I thought that if I stopped running, it would chase the thing that was still moving. 

That thing happened to be Carli. 

But I didn’t let her in on my plan.  There was no time!  I had to make the hard decision…do we go down together, or do I let my friend get eaten so that I can survive? 

Of course I let my friend get eaten so I can survive!  I’ll spend the rest of my life speaking at schools around the country about how brave she was, and we can make her an example of selflessness, and we can put a bronze statue of her in the bay outside of Copenhagen next to the Little Mermaid, but this statue will have no legs and only one arm because the German Shepherd will have ripped them all off…okay stop thinking and just STOP!

I stopped running.  I froze in the middle of a churchyard. 

I was somewhat relieved when the German Shepherd streaked past me, a mere five inches to my right, still chasing Carli.  I say somewhat relieved, because I think my first real feelings of guilt showed up that day. 

I looked up in time to see Carli make tracks down the alley, flying past Leroy’s pink trailer house and past Casey’s parking lot and the Bugni’s garage…a trail of dust rose up behind her.  The dog loped after her.  I quietly made a beeline for my house.

Later that day I found out that Carli had made it all the way to her yard and shut the gate.  She outran an angry German Shepherd at ten years old.  It’s a good thing too, because life wouldn’t be the same without her. 

But rest assured she has NEVER let me forget this Incident. 

 

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