Conflict is this week’s prompt. Conflict makes novels interesting, but sometimes it makes real life scary.
My mom, Gladys MARTIN HEISER (1921-1999) had seven siblings. The oldest one was Carlisle E. MARTIN (1915-1977). Carlisle’s wife, Millie, loved Chihuahuas. She had as many as three at one time, and they went with her wherever she went.
One time when I was about three, Carlisle and Millie were visiting at my family’s house. I was expected to sit and be still while the grownups talked. I could leave the room if I wanted to, but I mustn’t disturb the grownups when doing so.
I was sitting on the couch next to Aunt Millie. Her dog was in her lap. I wanted to pet the dog, but I knew better. Millie had a hand tightly on him, and I tried to not even look him in the eye. But the longer I sat there, the more scared I got. That dog was growling at me! I hadn’t done anything to him. Believe me; if I had, the adults would have said something.
I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I jumped off the couch, ran out of the living room and down the hall to my own room. Well, that teeth-bearing little monster broke out of Aunt Millie’s grasp and chased me down the hall. And it bit me on the behind!
And if that wasn’t shocking enough, I could hear the adults laughing about it! Some of them could see down the hallway from their location in the living room, including my own mother, so they saw the ‘attack’ as it happened.
I continued on to my room and closed the door on that demon beast. I didn’t come out until the visitors had gone.
Looking back, I know I was probably only nipped by the dog. There was no blood involved, but to a 3-year old it was a terrifying experience. And adding insult to injury by no one coming to my defense…well, I never sat next to Aunt Millie again and Chihuahuas are still my least favorite dog.
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