Grandma had heard my whining and didn’t get much sleep. She got up at daylight and felt sorry for me. She decided to take me on a special walk, although the blue sock was not going to be removed. I begged her, pleading that I would act better.
“Petey, stop giving me those sad eyes! The answer is NO. It’s just now starting to stink. I don’t think you learned your lesson. But I tell you what… we’ll go up to the park before everyone gets up.”
She had to lift me into the car, which I thought was ridiculous. At the park, we splashed through the shallow water of a mountain river, heading for the eagle’s nest she wanted to investigate.
I looked up on the other bank, and she looked in the same direction, where a very, very, flaming angry mother deer must have just birthed a fawn in the tall grass. The doe bounded for me, THE THREAT, and Grandma and I turned and raced for the river. Grandma thinks she walked on water, for she doesn’t remember splashing at all. She turned to my squeals and saw the doe pounding on me with her sharp hooves.
Grandma was screaming at me to, “Come!” but I could not. When I squirmed out of the attack, the doe caught me again and my yelps were heard above the river water.
I broke loose again, but instead of crossing the river, I took off into the bushes to keep Grandma safe. I ran and ran and kept on running.
Grandma later told me the doe came after her anyway. My gray-haired best friend took up a big piece of driftwood, held it up like a baseball bat, ready to defend herself.
She yelled at the doe to back off, who was so close Grandma could have touched the slits under the doe’s eyes that were flared open. Grandma knew the doe could hurt her and would not turn her back on it. The two maternals stood nose to nose, and finally, the doe turned back with arched neck and marched back to her fawn, as though she had made her point.
Grandma’s heart was racing. She was afraid I was dead from the beatings I took. She crossed the river in a different place, always watching for the doe and could not find me. She sat under a tree to catch her breath and calm down.
Then she remembered the blue sock. “Oh, no!” she cried. For that patch of woods was known for hungry coyotes…
and bears. Wild bears. Wild bears who would eat a little yellow dog!
“Oh, no!” Grandma repeated. “Petey has that dead quail tied to him. It smells bad and will attract predators. I’ve baited my dog!”
Then, of course, there were the nearby eagles.
“Yeah, it smells like a blue sock.”
to be continued…