Doggone It

As I was in the garage putting away the few tools I used for a table repair up in Hessel this past Saturday, I was abducted. You don't believe things like that can happen in little towns in da eastern U.P., but threats are everywhere these days. 

I was at Uncle Frank's old workbench getting the clamp and the screwdriver back in their proper spots, as I try to do with his stuff. I couldn't figure out where to put the Gorilla Glue which I had to purchase for the job. Gorilla Glue: it works on everything, even fingers, although I did not, I positively did not, glue my fingers together. Or my nostrils. That time. 

Anyway, I wanted to put the glue somewhere upright and safe. And then it happened. There was a flash of motion, I couldn't tell from where exactly, which caused me to turn about suddenly. Then it was upon me before I could react further. There was no time for grabbing a weapon, no opportunity for any kind of self defense. I was leapt on and almost knocked over.

The neighbor's dog, a friendly black white and brown shepherd of some sort, had its forepaws on my waist and was eyeing me, mouth agape and tongue hanging out, begging for attention. Of course I could not resist, even though he had just managed to scare the bejeezus out of me. He didn't mean nothing, and was only curious what I was doing and wanted a pet.

"Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?" I found myself asking the good boy who was clearly trespassing and did not care. I suppose I didn't mind either.