Wes, the Terrible Terrier

“Ahhh! Ahhh! He`s chasing me! He`s going to eat me!“ I screamed as I tore through my Grandma’s home, tripping over chairs and dog food in my haste, with the ecstatic white terrier right at my heels. Wesley, a small West Highland terrier which seemed humongous to my five-year-old self, was having the most ferocious time of his life. I was running for my very life! The faster I ran, the faster he ran. When I ran out of breath, he pounced on me and trailed his disgusting, slobbering tongue all over my face. I shrieked in terror. He was panting with delight. His tail wagged non-stop. I tore away at my highest speed— and promptly tripped over a makeshift cardboard fence my thoughtful Grandma had placed in a doorway for my good. She hoped that the high cardboard would intimidate Wesley, and will be a safe haven for dog-crazed (literally) little girls like me.

I was on the other side of the fence, helplessly stuck on the ‘doggy side’. The white oblong ball of hair was on me in no time, pacing up and down my shaking, sprawled body. I yelled as hard as I could before his tongue located my face. He began to kiss me with his lolling tongue – dog kisses that I was totally disgusted with. My dad, who was weak from laughing so very hard, did what he could to rescue a crazy, shrieking damsel-from-distress, and helped me up and over the two-feet-high fence.

“Dogs will always run after you if you keep running. You have to stop!” Dad told me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. The funny twitching at the corners of his mouth did not do me any good either. I still shook. “But—but—but– he’s going to eat me!” I wailed. “No, Odelia, he would not–”

I ran away at top speed before he could finish what reassuring sentence he was formulating. The snowy terror had leaped over the flimsy fence, and had continued the chase with renewed fervor. I dashed into the upstairs bathroom and closed the bath room tightly. “There,” I panted to myself, “That should keep him out.”

I underestimated my grandma’s dog’s intelligence completely.

Clicking toenails climbed steadily up the smooth, wooden stairs. The sound came ever closer, and my heart beat began to speed up. The sound came up to my closed bathroom door, and paused questioningly. A curious nose sniffed the door. Then the door knob turned. For two tense seconds, the horrifying thought—“Is Grandma’s dog that smart? — flashed across my mind.

A wet, pink tongue and black nose peeked around the door-frame. I shrieked in fear and hopelessness. Was this to be my remembrance of every visit to Grandma’s house? Was this dog going to be my tormentor forever? AHHHHH!

 

P.S. As of today, I love dogs soooo much—although I would much rather not be “kissed”.

 

Odelia

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