The old TV show "Lassie" had a recurring plot line. Timmy falls in a well; Gramps is trapped in a burning barn; Russian ICBMs are headed straight for Heartland, USA. Fortunately, Lassie is on hand to race for help, woofing all the way. "What are you trying to tell us, girl? I'll contact President Kennedy right away. We'll blockade Cuba and also get the Fire Dept to rescue Timmy and Gramps."
Today, my trusty canine companion, Harper, morphed into Lassie and prevented an auto accident.
We were on our morning walk. I was engrossed in Sports Radio on the Walkman. Harper was concentrating on finding an appropriate spot for his morning dump. "Shall I humiliate that yappy little bichon frise by crapping on his lawn and then lifting my leg over it for emphasis? Or shall I wait until I see some human on his front porch and dump right in front of him? That will get this clown who is walking me off his Sports Radio."
A car approached us at a high rate of speed, stopped curbside and the driver bolted out. The car, sans driver, then drifted backward and crossed the street headed for a parked vehicle. Harper woofed breaking me from my reverie. "What are you trying to tell me, boy? The driver didn't lock the door. We can reach the car before its imminent collision, open the door, and put on the emergency brake. Or maybe it is a terrorist car packed with explosives and we will go up in a blaze of glory."
We did get the emergency brake applied in time. The driver was all apologetic. Disaster was averted thanks to a quick-thinking canine
Harper was so excited that he dumped right there in the street. "I'm not marking my territory here, just leaving a memorial on the spot where I became a hero." I felt bad picking it up.
No comments:
Post a Comment