Okay. I do not really remember what I did over winter break exactly. But I think I will be able to scrape something together.
So, this particular scene takes place on Christmas at roughly one o'clock in the morning. It's kind of in between Christmas and Christmas Eve, like the witching hour or something like that. I was in Effingham, Illinois and the snow had started to fall several hours before. My best friend Bradley and I were sitting outside on my grandparent's porch, drinking hot chocolate with itty bitty marshmallows in it. The conversation was light and everything was just fabulous until we saw it.
Off in the distance, beyond the property line, stood a snarling, bloodthirsty beast of a dog. It would have been logical to just go inside at that point, but the fun thing about my grandparents house is that it was built in like the forties or fifties and is pretty janky. You can't get into the house through the back door for some reason, and you have to go around the entire house. We were faced with a very troubling decision- make a run for it and possibly attract the attention of this terrifying dog, or stay still and maybe get eaten if the dog decided to approach us.
In my fear, I made the decision to make a run for it and leave Bradley to fend for himself. I mean, he's 17 years old and should be able to take care of himself. But apparently the dog was startled by my sudden dash for the front door, and started running and barking and that's when I almost started to cry. And then Bradley, the honorable young lad that he is, threw the remainder of his hot chocolate (which was actually cold chocolate by that time) in the direction of the dog and then we both took of and safely made it to the front door.
I learned a lot about what to do in case of a savage dog attack, and it changed my life forever.
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