K-9 Converse

Not every occasion with my Converse shoes involves feces or the police. There are times when I do great things for other people. This tale does not involve feces or the police. It also does not involve great things for other people.

Before I left for the Navy I wanted to get in shape. I decided that running would be the best way to achieve this. On those sunny summer afternoons I would go for a jog in my Chuck Taylors. Usually running one to two miles although on occasion I would run up to five miles. I felt energetic when I ran and could feel my body get healthier. I knew that when I got to boot camp I could easily run the mile in less than ten minutes, the standard time for a sailor.

From time to time my feet would get bloody from running in the rubber-soled shoes. It became apparent to me that Chuck’s were not the best track shoes. However I felt stylish in my blue converse’s as I ran the streets of Shorewood.

I kept myself at a steady jog; I was never one to over exert myself. I wasn’t looking to run a marathon, just keep my figure.

One particular day on my jog I ran past a familiar house. Normally the man who lived in the house was outside doing yard work. This day the garage was open but no one was there. As I ran past I heard the sound of footsteps behind me. I turned to see a German Shepherd that came up to my hip chasing behind me.

I looked forward scream and forced my body into a dead sprint. I ran past three houses before I saw a trunk parked under a tree on the side of the road. I ran onto the bed of the truck in one quick motion and jumped onto a limb from the tree. The German Shepherd barked from below me.

Finally the owner of the dog came running over. He angrily said, “what’s wrong with you? You never run from a dog.” As if I was supposed to stand there as this giant beat charged at me. In a stressful situation the body says, “we can stand our ground or we can get the Hell outta here.” I went with the flight part of the biological response.

I collected myself and walked the rest of the way home. Periodically checking my rear for anything that may attack. Now every time I drive past that house I think of the dog. Just like when I pass the tree I picture my hanging upside down like a scared squirrel.