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July 3rd 2006 11:09 am
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River was a typically gentle dog. He loved everyone I loved, and was free with his snuggles and kisses. He never showed agression, and in fact ran the other way the time my two girls got into a fight.
One day I took him to the park with his daughter Hugs, then just a puppy.
As they played on the beach by the lake, I sat above them under a tree, reading a book.
Awhile later, an old red car pulled up on the road and stopped directly in front of me, about 30 feet away.
The man driving the car sat staring at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw River walking toward me. He didn't stop as he came to me, but kept on going, his eyes glued on the man in the car.
River stopped about 10 feet in front of me, never wavering his stare.
He didn't bark, he didn't just stood silently, confidently, and stared. It was if he was daring the man to approach me.
This went on for what seemed like minutes but was probably only seconds.
Finally the man started the car and drove away.
When it came down to it, River was there for me, separating me from "danger", and I have no doubt he would have done what he needed to do to protect me.
I will never again think a dog has to be aggressive to be protective.
This is a special Tail of Devotion
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See all diary entries for Ch. Abraxas Blaze of Glory
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The Dog Show: Who's Your Mama?
9
