Brown

My dog hates Brown.

I’m not sure what created the animosity.  Perhaps it stems from the years Prince was kept in our yard by means of an invisible fence.  The fence kept him in, but didn’t keep others out, so the Brown driver could easily enter our yard to leave a package at the front door.

Prince didn’t like it one bit.

Sometimes when I brought the packages inside, I would see the words, BAD DOG, written on them.  This made me curious about what transpired when I was not at home.

I never smelled pepper spray, but I guess, instead, Prince got kicked or hit by the drivers—not that I blame them.  If a big, loud dog came tearing after me, I would try to fend it off any way I could.

It’s been three or four years since we depended on the invisible fence, having graduated to a six-foot wooden one to contain our beast.  But the scars remain.

Prince hates Brown with a passion.

When we take afternoon walks, I pray we won’t encounter Brown because it takes every ounce of my strength to restrain Prince when we do.  He will leap and pull at his leash in an effort to reach the enemy.

One day, Brown was coming straight towards us and Prince, as usual, was going nuts.  We couldn’t run away, so I plowed on, straight ahead, as fast as I could go, thinking the sooner we passed each other the better.  Walking was difficult; Prince was lunging and jumping so that he kept getting in front of my feet, almost tripping me.

Brown stopped right beside us.

Poop!

Prince was frantic, afraid that Brown had come for him, while I strained every muscle, trying to move us forward, away from the evil one.

We were two doors from the safe zone, when I saw a second Brown.

Right in front of our house.

If Prince was afraid before, he was certain now.

Brown was there for him.

We couldn’t go forward and we couldn’t go backward.

Brown in front.  Brown behind.

So we stopped and I told Prince to sit, not that it did much good.  I kept my eyes focused on him, held the leash taut, and continued to give the command.

Holding my breath the entire time.

And praying.

Mercifully, the Browns drove off in opposite directions and we made it home.

I always thought dogs were color-blind, but this is apparently not so.

Prince has no reaction to FedEx vans.

Only.  Brown.

2 Comments

  1. Cindi
    Mar 18, 2014

    Our two dogs LOVE brown. It seems that our driver loves dogs and carries a barrage of doggie treats in the truck. He always takes time to love on the dogs and treat them when he makes the treck back to Rainbow’s End. Our dogs even run to the front of the yard and bark
    excitedly when the brown drives down the road. They love him!

    • Karen Curran
      Mar 18, 2014

      Hmmm…..maybe you need to train my dog….

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