Liquorice and I went on our usual walk this spring evening down to the corner, turn left and along to the next corner, perhaps a short mile away. There and back makes for a pleasant stroll before Liquorice has her evening meal. It was just after dusk when we left home, so the temperature was cooler and more agreeable for the two of us. There are no streetlights in our semi-rural neighborhood, and the few houses are set well back from the road so we rely upon the stars and moon for light, which is quite pleasant and the lack of vehicular traffic means little danger.
Together we strolled along enjoying the quiet aware only of the sound of the odd car in the distance or the friendly “Moo” of a polite cow. Peace and tranquility reigned supreme. Or at least until we were approaching the last driveway on our right some 200 yards short of the next corner. My attention was captured by the sight of these people’s little white “toilet brush” type dog racing down their driveway. No sooner had I noticed it then it started its annoying yappy barks. It has three Rhodesian Ridgebacks as “big brothers”. Toilet brush starts something and the Ridgebacks are left to finish it, a task they appear to enjoy. So quickly I strained my eyes and ears to trying to decide if they were accompanying our noisy nemesis, but they were not to be seen or heard so we continued on our way. Once that little nuisance of a dog passed through the gateway from its master’s home my heart sank as I heard the savage barks of two of the Ridgebacks and could now make out their dark forms that were charging and sending forth their verbal challenges to all and sundry. I turned, bringing Liquorice with me, and headed home hoping that the Ridgebacks’ honor would be satisfied with us vacating their chosen field of battle. The rasping savagery of their barks continued and the sound became closer as I turned to see their forms briefly outlined against the white painted wooden railings of their master’s driveway as they passed through and turned onto the road in our direction. At these times the old brain runs faster as time slows. We now had three dogs, bent on evil intent, closing in for the kill and neither Liquorice nor I had a chance of outrunning them. Flight therefore was not an option. That left fight, and again neither my little darling or myself are equipped for such activity. Bluff seemed the order of the day or night in this case. Our attackers were but five yards away with white teeth glistening when I turned sharply, threw my elbows out from my sides to create a growing presence and still holding Liquorice’s leash I noisily STOMPED forward two quick steps and ROARED “GET HOME YOU ROTTEN MONGRELS!”
Now anyone who has met me will tell you that I am far from impressive in stature or imposing by demeanor, in fact, in temperament I more resemble the “runt of the litter” with a “piddle and hide” response to any tension. However I do have one gift, a voice, that in past times was well practiced in calling the cows from some ¾ of a mile away. And I used that voice at its fullest volume now. The effect was as instant as it was dramatic! As one, our would-be assailants did an instantaneous “U” turn to the left and without missing a beat charged home with the greatest enthusiasm, and in silence! Liquorice was undisturbed by my request for these unruly dogs be elsewhere as she has heard that voice previously when the Jack Russell Terriers next door would bark as we meandered around our front paddock. No, Liquorice’s reaction was to be her usual playful self, blissfully unaware of any danger, only wanting them to come back so we could play that game again. Emboldened by our success we continued along on our original course to the next corner. On our return past their driveway Liquorice was excitedly looking for the Ridgebacks to come out and play once more but they would have been miles away by now had they not found sanctuary and a good place to hide at their master’s home.
Liquorice happily ate her evening meal from my hand and then relaxed in the breezeway of her home. I then had my meal with my parents. I told them of the evening’s events complete with full volume at the appropriate point. As my voice tailed off Liquorice’s could be heard barking loudly in support of her Dad. That made us crack up with laughter.
Arthur Witten
Liquorice – That’s my Dad!