I was a “cat only” person until Fargo.
It took me almost thirty-five years to get over my unfortunate dog encounter. I was a typical middle school girl riding a supercool green bike with a basket and a bell. On this bright South Georgia summer morning, I was speeding my way down 19th Avenue towards Lara’s house to go swimming. There was nothing quite like riding a bike to a friend’s house in the early 80s. Pure freedom for my kid soul. No phones. No Life360. No worries. Until… Three big black dogs appeared a block before my friend’s home. I knew these dogs and who they belonged to, but they had never run after me before. I first thought, “Oh they are just saying hi.” Uh, no. It was all about the chase. I was surrounded, two on my right and one on my left. They plunged toward me, biting at my butt like they wanted to ride the bike with me. Stopping did not seem to be an option. I started yelling at them and screaming for help. They started barking louder and mocking me for being afraid. I pedaled fast. They ran faster. At the end of their block, they suddenly stopped, turned around, and sauntered back to a yard. I can now relate to Katniss Everdeen in her Hunger Games arena when wild beasts swiftly attacked and unexpectedly retreated. Unfortunately, the damage was done. I have no idea how I stayed on that bike. My fear mixed with a sudden realization. As I almost passed out from hyperventilation, I understood that the dogs were not trying to hurt me. They were living their best dog life of running with me. This began my long epoch of dog aversion. This may or may not have influenced my decision to be an Auburn Tiger. It was quite a while before I even tried to pet a canine cutie. Thirty-something years later, along came Fargo, another big black dog. My mother-in-law needed a new home for this bouncy, barking guy, so Ella pleaded, and Bob reassured. I was outvoted and could not even change his name to something less bizarre. When I asked Mama Polly why she chose Fargo for this dog’s name, she laughed. “I had a call to come pick up a dog from people who couldn’t take care of it. I kept driving and driving trying to find the place. I kept thinking – how FAR will I have to GO to get this dog? He was such a crazy sweet dog and the name just seemed to fit.” After four years, I ask myself myself how far will I go for this dog? I might actually consider staying home more. When our wonderful dog-sitter was unavailable, I briefly considered staying home instead of going on mini-vacay with Bob. Fargo hyperventilates when it storms, and rain from a hurricane was predicted for three days in a row. Fargo and I share this in common. I hate to hyperventilate, too. He was going to need constant attention and good medication. A tear or two fell down my cheeks as I dropped him off at the vet. Or maybe that was the sweat from trying to get him out of the car. It was obvious to all that it was the first time I had ever done this. I returned later with his best doggie bed, (we have four) and a feast of all his favorite foods, including snacks and doggie dental treats. Once we reassured one another that it would be ok for three days, Fargo only glanced back once. I love when that dog smiles at me. Fargo has stolen my heart. It must be said that Fargo is not my dog. He most clearly belongs to Bob. Fargo is special to me because he patiently showed me how to love dogs again. How to trust them. How to play with them. How to appreciate the amazing comfort that they bring. This is the dog who guarded me from that wild coyote. Because of Fargo, I now have Daizie, Katie, and Annabelle as doggie friends. Thank heavens that Fargo loves each of our cats. He eats their food, snuggles up with them, and generally protects them. Fargo lets Marvin crawl all over him and gnaw on his tail without killing him. In fact, I’m convinced that Fargo secretly wants to be a cat. This would solve a lot of problems. You see, I just can’t bring myself to say I’m a dawg person.
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JoAnna Arnold
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