disappearing hands + HNT

My dog loves people. She would never dare attack a human, but she doesn't count little kids as people.

At the shops this morning, I found a lamp-post to tie the dog up, but there was a full-on mothers-and-kiddies circus going on nearby. Rather than leave the dog alone in the middle of that, I stuck around amidst the ear-splitting commotion and waited for them to move on.

Just as the show finally got moving, the lead toddler spotted my dog, and my heart sank as the wee thing ran over to us.

I appealed to the mother, who was disappearing up the road. I said "My dog's not good with little kids" and I hoped she would take the hint.

The mother responded in that sing-song voice of reality-denial: "come away darling, some dogs don't like little children."

The kid was too young to understand English, but the intonation of the mother's voice said "go ahead darling," and so it kept on coming.

So to fend the thing off for its own safety, I tried addressing it in dog language. I shoved my hand in its cheery face, and said "No! Go away!" Sensing a new game, the delighted toddler swerved around me and launched itself towards the dog, still sitting obediently but anxiously beside me.

By repeated side-stepping, I was able to keep my body between the suicidal kid and the dog. But then with a final lunge it got around me and with a triumphant scream poked its fingers in the dog's face.

Now the dog lost patience. Munch! The kid's wee hand disappeared up to the wrist into the dog's mouth. Tears flowed, but no blood.

Perhaps I should have admonished my dog, but it was all I could do to keep my own hand from disappearing into my trouser-pocket, where I keep the chunks of dried liver jerky.

If you're desperate, you can access all the old half baked thursday posts here.