Thursday, February 5, 2015

I'm Not Funny?

Wait, what?

In my last installment I shared with you Buddy's thoughts on who's funny and who isn't. According to him, I am smart but not funny.

My Mom apparently shares his point of view. She told me the other day that my HubPage articles are fine, but they "aren't funny like you usually are".

Hmmm. Not funny? Challenge accepted.

This entry is about my Mom.

About a year ago, my parents got a baby German Shepherd. Let's call her The Beast - that's not her name in real life. The Beast was a cute little puppy when they brought her home. She quickly became pretty large. Now, even though she isn't even 1 year old, Buddy could easily ride on her. She's a big girl.

And she's really young... so she's a giant, very playful, rambunctious, HUGE puppy. I have no idea what she weighs right now, but I'd be willing to guess it's somewhere near what my sister Steph weighs.

The Beast has razor sharp teeth. And a very powerful jaw. A while ago, she was playing around with my Dad and her teeth grazed his hand... poor Dad, his hand was quite cut up.

When The Beast was little[r], Mom would take her to PetsMart to buy different doggy things. She would joke about how The Beast would basically lead her around the store. Even as a little thing, The Beast has always been super strong. Mom would also love the terrified look of other shoppers when they'd notice the Shepherd barreling down the aisle toward them. The picture of this makes me smile... I can just see it. Some idiot, either carrying her tiny dog in a purse or [worse] pushing it in a stroller, would squeak in panic when 50 or more pounds of terrifying dog would come galloping up the aisle dragging her owner behind her. Anyway, now that The Beast is the size of a small horse, I think their PetsMart days are behind them. But don't quote me on that.

All of this is just backstory. You needed to know a tiny bit about The Beast before I could tell you the rest.

My mom's neighbors have some animals. 2 goats, and probably some other stuff that I don't know about. This story involves one of the goats.

Mom was on the patio grilling hot dogs for her grandkids. The Beast was loose in the yard, playing for a bit. Mom sees one of the goats standing near the fence. Then the goat jumps over the fence and into our yard. The Beast hasn't noticed yet. Mom attempts to get The Beast back into the garage (it's her air conditioned dog house). The Beast thinks Mom is being playful. Then she spots the black little snack and off she goes.

The chase is on.

Mom goes in for a minute to tell the kids to stay inside. Then she hears a goat screaming. The Beast won their race.

Mom finds them tangled up. The goat's leg locked in the immovable jaw of The Beast. Mom wrestles with collar around The Beast's neck... and then tries to pry her jaws apart. She succeeds. The goat begins to limp away. The Beast sees her afternoon snack moving, and bites again. Somehow Mom does not get bit or even scratched during this battle. A few minutes more of Mom wrestling The Beast who is wrestling the goat. Then the goat is let free and takes off.

The Beast and Mom are still standing there. Mom's hand is securely wrapped up with the Beast's collar. Then The Beast decides to lunge for the goat again. Mom is taken along for the ride. Complete with a belly flop onto the ground. This doesn't just happen once. Mom belly flops twice before letting go completely. *

The Beast is securely back in her dog house. After an hour of texts, the neighbors finally come to get their injured goat. Mom is talking to one of the ladies. Neighbor is worried... Would the Beast attack their small dog? Mom says "I don't think so." - to which Neighbor says "Well you didn't think she'd bite a goat either."

Mom feels a tad guilty. I think the goat was in her yard. The neighbors know she has a killing machine. How about anything in Mom's yard is fair game for The Beast?

* Mom is ok from her fall. Her shoulder is a little sore from the dog yanking hard. She's mostly just super impressed with The Beast's strength.