Death Boxer

The greatest fear of my five year old life was the giant boxer that lived in the house behind us. Our backyards were adjacent, and there was a spot in the corner where the dog had dug a hole and would occasionally escape to torment children in the neighborhood.

I remember one night, I let our shi-tzu mix out the screen door into our backyard. I heard her growling and went to investigate. The sinister Boxer was standing in the corner of our yard, staring at me with his beady eyes. I froze. I was so scared that I couldn't even call for my mother. The dog took a few steps towards me and I quickly found the motivation to squeak out "mom? mom. MOM! MOM I'M ABOUT TO GET EATEN!!!" She came to the door and I thought she could clearly see my forthcoming demise... but she managed to stay calm and reassuring. "Oh calm down, it's just Pickles from next door. I'd better call Frank and tell him to come get his dog." She didn't seem to understand how close I had come to death.

Pickles proved to be a wily creature. The combined efforts of my father, brother, and Frank were barely enough to corner death-boxer in our yard again after an hour of chasing him around the neighborhood. My mother found this amusing, so we stood on the screened-in patio and watched the antics of the men. I was still petrified, but it was dark and I could only see the bobbing lights from the flashlights the humans carried. My enemy was out of sight, and he was also out of mind. With my 5 year old brain and short attention span, it wasn't really that difficult to get distracted. And then the unthinkable happened. My mother (who also held a flashlight) tried to aid my father and pointed her beam of light directly at the dog. Death-boxer looked at me. He locked eyes with me completely, his prey now right before him. I could see the determination in his stance to destroy me, if not this night than another. I would never be safe from the vile Pickles, and we both knew it.

One day shortly after that fateful night, I was with my brother and some older kids playing in the big oak tree in our front yard. They were already up in the branches, and I stood beneath them, hopping up and down, trying and failing to reach the limb they used to climb the tree. I was getting annoyed that my older brother wouldn't help me up, and in fact he was laughing at me! I crossed my little arms in frustration and turned to "go and tell mom!" and witnessed the single most horrifying sight I could ever have dreamed... Pickles' muscular and evil body soaring over the fence between our yards. He landed gracefully and began to sprint full speed towards me. I screamed bloody murder and made a break for the tree, sobbing and screaming and begging my brother to "pick me up pick me up help help HELP!!!!" I'm not sure if he noticed Pickles at this point, but the naked fear on my face was enough to convince him to lend his aid. I'll always remember that moment. He reached for me, with pity and concern in his eyes, grabbed my wrist with both hands and pulled hard enough for my feet to leave the ground and find a sturdy branch to climb up to escape. Like a scene from a movie, the dog jumped at the trunk of the tree, barking and snapping his jaws mere seconds after my tiny legs were out of reach. I clung to my brother and waited for someone to rescue us. We felt like we were stranded on our tiny island, with an ever watchful predator waiting for one of us to make a mistake... The entire time as he barked at us, we felt more helpless and alone then we ever had before. Surely this creature would find a way to get us. We were doomed.

But then Pickles saw a squirrel and forgot all about us.