Jardo

During my early to mid teens, my family lived three doors down from the Stallions family where my best friend, Bill lived. In those days I went everywhere on bicycle but occasionally I walked across the other two lawns to get to his house.
The edge of the Stallions property ran along a small ditch dotted with several locust trees. Parallel to the ditch, for much of the length of the property, was a steel wire running along the ground. At one end of the wire was the gable roofed, shingled white dog house, in the middle of a bare spot where grass dare not grow; home of the dreaded Jardo.
Jardo was a large sporting dog generally not known to be dangerous but in my mind’s eye he was a brown and white, red eyed velociraptor on a tether. A degree of nerve and timing was required to make it safely across the wire.
Sometimes Jardo’s chain was tangled around the stake preventing him from running the length of wire. After several days of relative safety, I fell into what would soon turn out to be a false sense of security.
One particular day as I jumped across the ditch I failed to survey the doghouse. I took a few steps and froze. The wire was bouncing on the ground and ringing the approach of snarling teeth. With no time to turn I was backpedaling towards the ditch with a carnivore lunging at my face. I believe that if I had had to go, I would have went right then.
I fell across the ditch into the grass on the other side just as Jardo ran out of slack in his chain.
I jumped to my feet, feeling foolish, and quickly scanned the area in hopes that no one had seen how really scared I was. Unfortunately, one of Bill’s older sisters who had been sunbathing at the edge of their carport, called out to Jardo. Jardo instantly became a tail wagging, tongue-slobbering puppy.
I was humiliated, but alive.
She assured me that it was safe but I turned and went home to get my bicycle. I looked back at Jardo as he happily trotted back down the length of the wire. Sometimes that which appears as a grin on a dogs face, actually is.