The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Twilight

When Apollo the friendly doberman comes bounding toward me like the Hound of the Baskervilles following the scent of fresh meat, I know the best course of action is to freeze. My feet scream RUN and my heart pounds RUN but my mind tells me to stand as still as a tree stump and look harmless.

Apollo isn't interested in me anyway. He's interested in the happy Hopeful hound. Usually when we walk past the neighbors' house, we see Apollo barking his fool head off while lunging at the window, and I've often wondered what would happen if Apollo came out to play without a leash. This evening we found out.

Apollo comes running. I stand still. My feet say RUN. He keeps coming. I remind myself that he's just a big friendly rambunctious fellow even if he looks like he's slavering to sink his teeth into my throat and then tear my arm right out of its socket. 

I stand still. It isn't easy.

"Tackle him!" calls out the neighbor, but tackling dobermans is outside my bailiwick. All I want to do is continue my walk but Apollo wants to play and he won't stop following Hopeful, so the neighbors try to corral their pet.


That's not easy either. The neighbors aren't exactly decrepit, but they're not physically equipped for doberman-wrangling, and I'm putting every ounce of energy into not running away, which is no help at all.

Finally, as the twilight deepens and I begin to wonder whether I'll have enough light to walk the half-mile back home, they develop a brilliant plan: lure Hopeful into the garage so Apollo will follow. Hopeful is easily lured by a doberman-sized bucket of dog biscuits, but Apollo remains wary. At one point my neighbor takes off his belt to use as a leash but Apollo evades him--and then his pants fall down.

My neighbor's pants. Apollo doesn't wear pants. (Where would the Hound of the Baskervilles shop?)

As the twilight deepens, Apollo keeps bounding and Hopeful munching. I make a few futile gestures toward easing Apollo inside because otherwise I fear I'll be planted in my neighbors' yard for the rest of my life.

Finally Apollo is safely confined and I can start feeling my way home in the dark--except  Hopeful is reluctant to leave behind the motherlode of dog biscuits. Now I'm the one with the dog that won't be wrangled, until finally the neighbor lends me a leash (not his belt!) and I lead my unhappy hound home.

In the end we all get what we want: Apollo gets some playtime and Hopeful too many dog biscuits, and my neighbor gets to keep his pants on. Best of all, though, I get to keep both my arms. 

For now.