He has beautiful brown eyes. He looks as if a line has been drawn down his face, one side is white and the other is gold. His chest is white, but the rest of his body is a beautiful gold shade, except for a funny little circle of white on his left hip. He is a Beagle, he is 12 years old, and he has been my best friend for the 9 years that he has lived with me. He was terribly abused by his prior owner and has the scars to prove it, but it was love at first sight when we were introduced to one another at the Animal Shelter.
He loves stuffed animals, tennis balls, and anything that he sees me eating. He hates water, his flea medicine, and Mexican men. It was a Mexican man that abused him.
It was a warm, sunny day yesterday. When it is warm I turn on the air conditioning in the car and my beautiful Beagle lies down on the floor of the back seat and lets the cool air flow over his body. You can almost hear him purr he is so content. That is where he was snoozing when I parked my car under a lovely tree.
My grandson had an appointment with his school counselor. Because of the wheelchair it has become a complicated task to get in and out of the car. I have learned to remain in the driver’s seat and wait for my passenger if the appointment isn’t going to be too long. I often have to do that when I take John to the VA Hospital. If I have my newspapers, a diet Pepsi, a bottle of water, and my dog I am content to soak up some quiet time in my spiffy red wagon.
There wasn’t much activity on the street where I was parked. School was in session, men and women were at work, there was only an occasional car that drove by. There was a cool breeze blowing through the open windows and the shade from the tree made it seem almost serene. I was relaxed.
I was absorbed in a story in the paper when I heard a thump, thump sound. I glanced up and noticed a man running across the street. The sound had been his tennis shoes pounding the pavement as he ran. He was about three car lengths from my car. I smiled to myself wondering what he could be in such a hurry to get to. I went back to reading my paper.
UNTIL all of a sudden he was half way into my open car window.
“I have come over to introduce myself to you. Do you like Mexican men?”
I backed up and over on my seat. But my little red wagon has bucket seats and I was limited in how far I could move.
My firstfearwas that he might have a weapon of some sort hidden somewhere. So I decided to try to keep him as calm as I could. I remember thinking repeatedly, “Keep him smiling, keep him calm, keep him friendly. No anger, no violence!”
“I’m sorry I don’t know you and I’m not comfortable with this situation. I wish you would please leave.”
“I said, I have come over here to introduce myself to you. Have you ever had sex with a Mexican man?” He said as he put his hands in my hair. Then he took one of his hands out of my hair and started stroking my face saying over and over how soft and lovely my skin felt.
By that time his body was half way into my car. He put one of his arms around my neck and started pulling me closer to him. “Kiss me. Give me a little kiss.”
Both of his hands were on my neck as he struggled to pull me closer. I continued to try to keep him calm as I resisted his pulling at me. But my heart was beating fast and my thoughts were jumbled.
In the back seat I heard my dog struggling to get up on the back seat. He is an old dog and has arthritis in one of his legs so getting up on the seat isn’t as easy as it once was. But the minute he got on the seat and got his leverage he took a flying leap and was over the front seat growling and barking. He put his paws on my right leg and shoved his face right into the face of the Mexican man; barking, snarling, and threatening.
“YOU BETTER LEAVE BEFORE MY DOG ATTACKS. HE CAN BE VERY VIOLENT IF HE THINKS SOMEONE IS HURTING ME!”
And he did. He backed out of the window and took off running while my dog hung out the side of the car and yelled at him.
I was so shaken that I rolled up all my windows and sat there in the stuffy car and shook. My Beagle put his head in my lap and looked up at me with his beautiful eyes. He had done his job! He was proud of himself! He wanted to hear words of praise.
And words of praise he received... all night long. Every member of the family praised him. He was dubbed ‘THE HERO’. He thinks the name Hero is just fine. As long as it doesn’t involve water or flea medicine.
P.S. This morning was the day that the flea medicine had to be re-applied. Hero stood still while I applied it, but when I was through he turned his back on me and walked away. That was two hours ago and he still wont speak to me. Yesterday I was a lady IN distress and today I’m a lady CAUSING distress. What a DOG’S LIFE!