I took the three dogs for a walk today, down the old road bed that the oil company made, to a little wooded area we call (not very accurately) Lothlorien. While we tarried in the woods, some dogs went by on the road bed, heading towards the house. They detoured when they noticed us. Suddenly we were surrounded. I counted five collarless dogs of about Ready’s size, with a lean look consistent with a feral lifestyle. Ready and Tara strained at their leashes, barking and growling. Bridget got off a few barks from her position behind me.
With both hands full of doubled-over leash, I had all I could do to keep hold of Tara. The interlopers growled but did not attack. I thought that if worse came to worst and they rushed us, I’d turn my dogs loose to fend for themselves and commence stomping and kicking.
But it didn’t come to that. I yelled, Ready and Tara barked, and the intruders drew off. They went back the way they’d come, down the road bed and beyond, away from the house. I could see their pointy ears bounding through the tall grass. Then they disappeared from sight.