All was well until I heard a dog bark and looked up to see the largest dog I’ve laid eyes on racing toward us.
[This is the moment, folks, where instinct kicks in about the same pace as begging God to save your life and face.]
I positioned myself between the dog and my daughter and froze. I could make it be some heroic story of how I stood my ground and stared down the dog, but let’s be honest, I was petrified and, like I mentioned, it was the instinct that made me protect that babe of mine. Over my dead body would he get at her, and it looked like that was pending.
The dog raced toward us barking fiercely. The owner was yelling. It took about 12 bounds for him to reach us and 2 feet in front of me (I’m braced and breathless at this point) he came to a screeching halt, and if it’s possible for a dog to smile, he did.
Then I heard the owner yelling frantically that the dog was friendly and absolutely loved people.
It was his good fortune that a small window of freedom opened up for him and, low and behold, across the street were new friends he wanted to meet!
Things aren’t always what they seem. (But sometimes it’s still wise to brace for impact.)