hissed.
“What is it, Brer Cat? A mouse?”
August yowled, then zipped up the stairs with his ears laid back against his head. “August,” Laura said, laughing. “I didn’t know you were part chicken. It’s only a shadow.”
A week or so later, Laura stood at the kitchen sink watching Lizzie play in the backyard. Lizzie was singing a song she’d made up as she played.
“Mr. Feathers is my friend. August is too. They don’t like the bad lady. And I don’t either.”
Laura leaned over the sink to hear Lizzie better. Suddenly she felt a presence. She turned around, but there was no one there.
When she turned back to the window, a large dog had lumbered around the side of the house. It was growling and snarling angrily. Foam drooled from its mouth. Madness and pain seemed to keep it moving but with no purposeor direction. In one panic-filled moment Laura saw that the back gate had been left open.
Lizzie was still singing. Oh, no, thought Laura. Her high-pitched voice will draw the dog.
Now the dog shook its head fitfully, moving closer and closer to the sound of the singing child.
First Laura dialed 911 for help, then reached for Thomas Lester’s baseball bat and quietly tiptoed to the back porch. She couldn’t chance calling Lizzie, because that might make the child run. Moving instinctively, she charged out the back door, stomping and screaming to pull the dog’s attention to her. It worked. The dog retreated a few steps in confusion, giving Laura a split second to put herself between her child and the attacker.
“Lizzie! Run to the porch!” she yelled. “Now!”
The child heard the urgency and fear in her mother’s voice and obeyed. August bounded forward, too, and stopped in front of Laura in his stalking position. His tail twitched from side to side. The mad dog snapped and snarled, opened its jaws, and jumped forward. With legs spread apart, Laura braced for the impact.
But some unseen force seemed to snatch the dog back, holding him in place. He looked as if he were wrestling and twisting against an invisible leash.
Laura didn’t take time to analyze what was happening. “Open the screen door, Lizzie,” she yelled. Then scooping up August, she ran into the house. Just as Laura slammed the door the dog freed itself and in a fit of frenzy rushed at the screen. As Laura held her daughter she heard sirens announce the arrival of help.
It wasn’t until the dog had been carried away that Laura let Lizzie go.
Later that evening Laura was still shaking when she told Jack and Thomas Lester what had happened. “It couldn’t attack me. It was like the dog was being held back by a powerful force.”
This is a wicked thing…
“Where do you think the dog came from?” Thomas Lester asked, wanting to know every dramatic detail.
Very old and very powerful…
“It was probably a family pet, maybe trained to love and take care of a child,” Jack reasoned. “So even in its diseased condition, it instinctively knew that it shouldn’t attack a child. That reluctance allowed Lizzie to get to safety.”
The Dabobo disguise themselves…
“You know how I always try to find a reasonable explanation for things,” Laura said. “But for the life of me I don’t know how that gate came open. I know it was locked.”
Jack gave Laura a you-only-
thought
-you-locked-it look.
“Mr. Feathers and August saved us,” Lizzie announced with certainty, stroking the big cat, who was asleep in her lap.
“Listen to you!” Thomas Lester teased. “That dog would’ve swallowed August whole.”
“No way,” Lizzie insisted.
“Lizzie’s right,” Laura said, winking. “You would’ve been so proud of August. He fearlessly put himself between the dog and me. Oh, and I’m sure Mr. Feathers helped out, too.”
“Yo, August! Think you bad now, huh?” Thomas Lester said, giving the cat a rub behind the ears.
Everyone laughed, but in bed that night Laura lay awake replaying the strange scene in her
“What is it, Brer Cat? A mouse?”
August yowled, then zipped up the stairs with his ears laid back against his head. “August,” Laura said, laughing. “I didn’t know you were part chicken. It’s only a shadow.”
A week or so later, Laura stood at the kitchen sink watching Lizzie play in the backyard. Lizzie was singing a song she’d made up as she played.
“Mr. Feathers is my friend. August is too. They don’t like the bad lady. And I don’t either.”
Laura leaned over the sink to hear Lizzie better. Suddenly she felt a presence. She turned around, but there was no one there.
When she turned back to the window, a large dog had lumbered around the side of the house. It was growling and snarling angrily. Foam drooled from its mouth. Madness and pain seemed to keep it moving but with no purposeor direction. In one panic-filled moment Laura saw that the back gate had been left open.
Lizzie was still singing. Oh, no, thought Laura. Her high-pitched voice will draw the dog.
Now the dog shook its head fitfully, moving closer and closer to the sound of the singing child.
First Laura dialed 911 for help, then reached for Thomas Lester’s baseball bat and quietly tiptoed to the back porch. She couldn’t chance calling Lizzie, because that might make the child run. Moving instinctively, she charged out the back door, stomping and screaming to pull the dog’s attention to her. It worked. The dog retreated a few steps in confusion, giving Laura a split second to put herself between her child and the attacker.
“Lizzie! Run to the porch!” she yelled. “Now!”
The child heard the urgency and fear in her mother’s voice and obeyed. August bounded forward, too, and stopped in front of Laura in his stalking position. His tail twitched from side to side. The mad dog snapped and snarled, opened its jaws, and jumped forward. With legs spread apart, Laura braced for the impact.
But some unseen force seemed to snatch the dog back, holding him in place. He looked as if he were wrestling and twisting against an invisible leash.
Laura didn’t take time to analyze what was happening. “Open the screen door, Lizzie,” she yelled. Then scooping up August, she ran into the house. Just as Laura slammed the door the dog freed itself and in a fit of frenzy rushed at the screen. As Laura held her daughter she heard sirens announce the arrival of help.
It wasn’t until the dog had been carried away that Laura let Lizzie go.
Later that evening Laura was still shaking when she told Jack and Thomas Lester what had happened. “It couldn’t attack me. It was like the dog was being held back by a powerful force.”
This is a wicked thing…
“Where do you think the dog came from?” Thomas Lester asked, wanting to know every dramatic detail.
Very old and very powerful…
“It was probably a family pet, maybe trained to love and take care of a child,” Jack reasoned. “So even in its diseased condition, it instinctively knew that it shouldn’t attack a child. That reluctance allowed Lizzie to get to safety.”
The Dabobo disguise themselves…
“You know how I always try to find a reasonable explanation for things,” Laura said. “But for the life of me I don’t know how that gate came open. I know it was locked.”
Jack gave Laura a you-only-
thought
-you-locked-it look.
“Mr. Feathers and August saved us,” Lizzie announced with certainty, stroking the big cat, who was asleep in her lap.
“Listen to you!” Thomas Lester teased. “That dog would’ve swallowed August whole.”
“No way,” Lizzie insisted.
“Lizzie’s right,” Laura said, winking. “You would’ve been so proud of August. He fearlessly put himself between the dog and me. Oh, and I’m sure Mr. Feathers helped out, too.”
“Yo, August! Think you bad now, huh?” Thomas Lester said, giving the cat a rub behind the ears.
Everyone laughed, but in bed that night Laura lay awake replaying the strange scene in her
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