Continuing from yesterday (if you haven’t read that one, go read it first) -
I’m about to die. I turn the corner and hear silence. I want to peek around and see what the heck is going on, but I’m obviously too petrified to do that.
I ring the woman’s doorbell so I can get another human involved. By this point, I’m absolutely hysterical, crying and shaking, looking generally crazy I’m sure. I’m kind of surprised she was okay coming to the door with such a weirdo on her front porch.
Chris was her name, and she’s the kind of person I’d want to be around in any sort of disaster/dangerous situation. She was all business, the first thing out of her mouth being the important questions. “Is anyone else in danger? Are we safe here right now? What’s happening?”
I’m trying to communicate in sniffs, tears, head turns, and hand gestures. I get across the information that no one else is around as far as I know, and that I think we’re safe now.
She went around the corner to check and the dogs were gone. How weird, right? One moment they’re here, the next moment their gone. How did they get quiet so quickly? Where did they go?
I know they were not a figment of my imagination. Know how I know that?
Chris said she was on her way out of the house because she heard so much barking. She’s a dog rescuer, and she wanted to make sure the dogs were okay. That’s right. She said she wanted to make sure the dogs were okay.
Even though I am making fun of that point a little, I will say she was extremely kind to me. She said, “You’re soaking wet!” I’m all “Yes, I know. I’m in a half marathon. And I – (cry, cry, cry still). She gets a blanket out, puts it around me, and says, “Come inside. Let’s call your parents.” Adorable, right?
You may not have heard the way I said that sentence, but I’m (again) gently making fun of something she said. However, it’s actually not all that crazy of an idea to call my parents. I do generally call my dad whenever anything exceptionally bad (or good) happens, ‘cause you know, he is my dad. Unfortunately, he was thousands of miles away, and I’m kind of a grown-up, I guess, or something lame like that. So, even though he’s my daddy, he couldn’t protect me in this case.
Anyway, as Chris went inside to get the blanket, a man from across the street came out to check on me since I had been screaming loudly enough that I’m sure people in Portland heard me out in Seattle.
I was taking breaths between every word, ‘cause you know, I was traumatized!
“What happened? What’s wrong?” There (breath) were (breath) these (breath) two (breath) huge (big breath) dogs (breath) and -
He seemed so relieved when I said the word “dogs,” as if he was afraid I was going to say “murderer” or something. Well, let me tell you, I could’ve just as easily been murdered by these dogs as I could’ve been by any human!
Truthfully, I would much rather be chased by a murderer than a dog. I mean that sincerely. With a dog, they will catch up to you. And they cannot be reasoned with. With a murderer, he or she is just another person. Conceivably, you could outrun them. Conceivably, you might outsmart them. You might be able to reason with them if they actually do catch you. (I’ve watched a lot of Criminal Minds, therefore I’m obviously pretty trained to deal with psychopaths).
Thankfully, I never saw the dogs again. I’ll wrap up the rest of the race tomorrow.