Wagon Train

It's kind of like the story of David and Goliath meeting an episode of Wagon Train.

The old pit meanders outside and finds a patch of warm grass. He lays down and rolls onto his back, luxuriating in the sunshine and fresh air and then out of nowhere, the puppy rushes him like a freight train, madly running in circles around him, ferociously nipping at each and every moving part and barking loud enough to wake the dead. When the pit's had enough, he lumbers awkwardly to his feet and joins in the game by snapping his considerable jaws, producing deep,

operatic bass growls and loping around the yard, chasing and then being chased. The rules seem to be whoever gets distracted first wins so it's no surprise it's so often a draw.

From the side porch steps, the cur dog (too insecure to join in), the little chihuahua (far too bad tempered) and I (secretly rooting for the pit) watch and wait. An unsuspecting pedestrian coming innocently down the sidewalk provides the distraction. All four dogs bolt for the fence, each desperately trying to outbark the other. They paw at the bars, spray saliva and leapfrog over and under one another. Bodies collide with startling force, the noise is ear splitting and the poor passerby wastes no time scurrying for the opposite side of the street.  Once he's out of sight, a relative calm descends.

Handicapped by weight, age and a sometimes stiff hip that throws his gait off, the pit makes his way back to the steps. He gives me an unasked for (and mostly unintentional) body slam together with a sloppy kiss and goes inside. The puppy turns his attention to the cur dog but their encounter is brief and almost immediately the cur turns and comes racing toward me with the puppy snatching at his hind legs and tail. My part of the game is to dodge at the last second and shush the now visibly upset chihuahua as best I can without risking losing a finger or two. Once her three housemates are back inside, she deems it safe to climb off my lap and take her morning stroll. I close the door behind me so she can mill about by herself, taking her time and keeping a wary eye on me in case the hounds should make an unexpected return.

You never know when the rules may change.