It is no secret that I am not a fan of dogs. I frequently make fun of them, and I even kicked a little mutt once when nobody was looking. It would stand to reason that they would not like me either, but I figured the species to be too stupid to deliberately set me up as an object of ridicule. Looking back, I realize that I had fair warning. The neighbor’s dog barked all Saturday night, finally going to sleep as I left to worship his creator Sunday morning. I did little more than grumble a few choice words in a way that I hoped would not defile the Sabbath. Swearing on Sunday is sure to land one in hot water, especially right before church. All in all, I guess I had it coming.

It started like any other Monday morning. I was so busy thinking about work, I didn’t even notice the barking on the other side of the fence. Our neighbor was leaving at the same time, and we exchanged a few meaningless comments. At that moment, a heeler came tearing around the corner, and I instantly knew he meant business. There were sticks, trash, my neighbor and hundreds of other things that dog could have bitten. As soon as I saw him, I knew I was the only thing he cared about. He was baring his teeth and snapping as he charged. He didn’t even bother to look at my neighbor. I held out my hand to offer the proverbial olive branch. Had I left it there a second longer, I would have lost it. Branch withdrawn, I planted the best kick I could in his teeth. I was wearing Birkenstocks, so the kick was entirely ineffective. I had to “pull” my kicks to keep my shoe from flying off my foot. It was a dance I would have rather witnessed than performed. The dog had me bested, and he knew it. The owner finally showed up and gained control of the crummy little beast. I waited for the apology that never came, and she left without a word. Like owner, like dog, I guess. The worst part about it was the way that dog walked off. It was clear that he was completely satisfied with how his morning was turning out. He trotted back home, tail wagging in utter satisfaction.

Today is Tuesday. I wore sturdy shoes, and I kept the ice scraper close after cleaning my car. Perhaps the neighbor saw me take a few practice swings. I heard no barking, and I saw no dogs. Apparently the taste of a dog’s victory takes longer than a day to wear off. I’m nearly positive I will be caught defenseless when it does.

For the African travelers:

If you happen to get the chance to eat dog, be open-minded, and remember that they’re not eating the well-behaved ones.

For everyone else, I send my love.