Dock Diving and Knives…not a good mix

After thinking long and hard what I should make this post about, I came to a decision to tell you about dock diving practice this past weekend.

Oh, I know. I could be telling you all about our club’s big event coming up this weekend. Or about Spud’s bout with a near heat stroke. Or about the way Hoppy has started waking us all up at 3:00 every single morning.

But when you hear about our last practice, you’ll understand why I chose this topic. There are no photos, just a good story. So sit back, grab a cup of coffee or some kibble to munch, relax, and read.

Our Sunday afternoon practice was in a very nice subdivision with a big lake. One of our members is a resident there and has the dock reserved for us one Sunday each month. That resident is always there to help with practice. (We call that wrangling.)

This particular afternoon, he had to leave early for a family function, so my mom drove over there (about 90 miles) to finish wrangling the practice. Of course, she took Spud and me with her. Hoppy stayed home with our dad.

Our practice is divided into two groups, and the first group left around 2:30, with the second group not schedule to be there until around 3:00. So that gave my mom some time to play with Spud and me.

We were having a great time. She took us both out on the dock and just let us jump and swim for fun. Then she put me in my crate and did some dock diving with Spud.

Just before 3:00, I saw a big white van come driving into the lake area. I wondered, “Who is that? Is that the second group of jumpers? Do they have a good looking hot guy lab?”

Well, the van pulled over very near the dock and a little old lady got out. And I mean old. Now, my mom is old (in my opinion), but this lady could have been her mother almost!!! She didn’t say anything to my mom at first.

Spud had just done another jump and had swum back to the shore and was walking around to get back on the dock.

All of a sudden, that lady starts yelling at my mom, “I didn’t think dogs were allowed off-leash in this subdivision.”

How dare her yell at my mom!!!! I started barking and barking, “Hey, old lady, leave my mom alone. She’s not hurting anyone.” But no one paid any attention to me.

My mom, ever the diplomat, talked very nicely to the old lady and explained that we had the dock reserved, and that the dogs do not run all over. The dogs just jump off the dock and run right back up on the dock.

But that lady fussed and fussed and fussed at my mom…talked really ugly to her. I barked, “Spud, bite her!” But Spud would never do that. He’s such a wimpy weenie. Doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. I tell you, if I had have been down there by that dock, I would have given that lady a piece of my little chocolate mind!

The lady finally took her fishing stuff and walked over around to the other bank and began fishing.

Now, while this scene was going on, the second group of jumpers came up. They didn’t know what was going on and just stood there watching. Everyone seemed happy that she was finally gone…or so we thought.

When my mom let me out for another jump, I wanted so badly to run over to her and bark and growl at her. I just stood there glaring at that little shriveled up old woman. But then I started jumping and forgot all about it.

My turn finished, and it was another dog’s turn. I was back in my crate again. So was Spud.

Then it happened. What did I see!!

That old lady walking back to her van and getting something out. What was it? I looked and looked real hard to see. Was it another fishing pole? Or bait bucket? Or tackle box?

No, it was a big butcher knife!!!!!

OH MY GOD!!! She had a big knife and she was waving it at my mom!

I started barking and barking and barking so loudly. My heart beat so wildly, and my paws began to sweat. I was literally a caged animal wanting out to protect my mom.

I barked, “NO, NO, not my mom! Not my mom!”

I scratched and scratched at the bottom of my crate trying my best to escape. I scratched so hard my paws ached. But I didn’t care. My mom needed me.

All I could think of was getting out of that crate and jumping on that lady and biting the heck out of her hand.

I heard the lady say to my mom, “See this? This is what’s going to happen to any dog who comes near me.” And she kept waving that knife at my mom while she was talking.

“Mom,” I barked wildly, “Mom, knock that knife out of her hand. Knock that old coot into the lake. Get her, Mom. You can take that old biddy.”

But my mom would never do anything violent. The old lady finally walked back over to her fishing stuff on other bank.

Whew! That was close. The new dogs continued to jump, and my mom worked with them helping them. This went on for about 30 more minutes.

I was beginning to settle down and think it was all over. But no. Not with that knife-wielding crazy old bat.

She picked up all her fishing stuff and moved right over beside the dock.

WHAT? WHAT’S UP WITH THAT!!! There’s no way the dogs could possibly walk back onto the dock without going right past her.

She was trying to get one of us dogs to come near her so she could stab us!!! Her goal was to kill a dog!! NO WAY, GRANNY!

My mom again, very nicely, asked her to please go fish back on the other bank so we could continue jumping. She told my mom, “You have the dock. Jump if you want to. I can fish anywhere on this lake and I want to fish right here.”

Then she pulled the knife out again and said, “And if any dog comes near me, this is what’s going to happen to them.”

I went crazy. “Mom,” I barked, “Get her, Mom, get her! Don’t take that crap. Knock her lights out, Mom. Or let me out so I can get her.”

Oh, I soooooo wanted at that old lady. If I could have gotten out of that crate, someone would have been fishing HER out of the lake!

But my mom just stopped the practice, and we all left. I gave that old bag a glare and a couple more barks as we pulled off.

Follow up to the story: My mom filed a report with the security people, and they were supposed to go get her or talk to her or whatever.

But let me tell you this one thing: that lady better stay over on her side of town. If I ever see her again, just call me CUJO!

See you on the dock,

Sally, the Captain of Team 3 Dawg Flite

Proud member of Dixie Dock Dogs

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