Dogs, Dreams, & Dogs.

Last night I had a dream about my dad... anyone who may have known him would know he was mean as all get out... but at the same time, he was funny. I get both my temper and my sense of humor from him. I don't remember my dad fearing anything minus 2 items... dogs and hornets. The hornet story is for a later time. The dog thing was a complication, seeing as how he was at the junk yard hours a week, pulling parts or having us search for parts. This activity was HATED by the rest of us, except for one thing. The potential of a dog- small or large, running from the back of the yard towards my old man. Dad had a stroke when I was about 5 and was paralyzed on his right side. His gate was a mess, his hand pretty useless, and it slowed him down...unless there was a dog. I watched that man scale a car hood in 2 seconds flat and never did we ever not laugh. It was the only time we could laugh at anything concerning him without being beaten. Sometime, when the dog showed itself it would be small and he would just stand on the hood of a car yelling at it- other times it would be a larger dog and with the speed and pure nike agility of a Duke boy he could slide up a windshield to the roof of a car in a split second. We actually had 2 small dogs growing up, a Boston Terrier and a mean Chihuahua. He seemed to loved these dogs and never feared them, even though the fat chihuahua attacked anyone but me with similar fierce intent as any junk yard dog. So, why he was afraid of unknown dogs is a mystery to be sorted from several of his life stories.

One tale was about the dogs in Korea when he was in the war, that hiding in fox holes with dogs after you has something to do with it.

Another was hiding in the forest near the coal mines from 'ingins' and slave traders where the dogs would bite at your feet to keep you walking.

Others were about wolves in the mountains, and one really good one where he was caught cheating on a test in 3rd grade and thrown to the dogs, never to return to school again.

Last night in the dream, I was on a walk with my dad and a mean pack of dogs 'came a runnin' only there was no car to run up on, scale or gain cussing distance between. In the dream I watched my dad look around at trees, but knowing he could not climb a tree, I kept throwing myself to the dogs. I never saw them in the dream. I could feel them, but I never saw them.

His hat fell off, navy Detroit Tigers hat with the embroidered 'D' on it I never saw him without unless we were watching boxing. When his hat fell off, he called out for the hat- not me. That was, in the dream, the last thing I recall being confused about- but accepting.

As I was waking up I am sure I had been thrashing about in the bed because under the light streaming in from the window was every dog eyes in the house on me. George had the blanket in his mouth-I think he was trying to wake me up. I sat still a second taking in what was the dream and what was the situation of having a K9 audience for awakening. No one moved. Not an ear bend, just still- looking at me. I didn't get up, I just lay back down and went off to sleep until my alarm went off about an hour later.

THIS time, when I woke up, I felt a heavy sort of pressure on my chest. When I pulled my head up, I realized that in that last hour of sleep my dogs had decided to work together and secure me to the bed. Almost like laces in a running shoe. I was in a pack ... well I was the bottom of the pack. Slowly, one by one- they woke and moved, no one was hyper or the usual morning snugly. George was slow and did not pull this morning in the slightest, and when I filled the food bowl no one came from sleeping to have breakfast. Even now, hours later everyone is really quite on the 4 legged front and I can not help but wonder- if I kept them awake or if they somehow absorbed my emotions from me during a bad dream. For some reason I am a bit less upset that George ate what was my last sandal last night. Some people are not 'dog people', and others' people are dogs.

I am the ladder.