HanktheDog Blog

It's a higgledy piggledy world out there, neither safe for man nor beast. The other day I got mugged in the park - or chomped, rather. Right in the snout.

It was a little humilitating, actually. I wound up running back to Molly with a bloody nose, like a little kid on the playground after getting roughed up by bullies. I thought I was old enough to avoid such nonsense but I guess not. Still not sure how it happened. There were a lot of unfamiliar dogs squirming around, some of them trying to be all that. My back was up just a bit, perhaps, but not bristling. Yes, my legs were stiff as poles and my tail stood out like a slantwise rod. But I wasn't trying to seriously dominate, just hold my ground and lend a little order to the chaotic, commingling mess of cheek lickers and buttocks sniffers.

Well, somebody wasn't buying my status. Or maybe they just got scared. What I really remember was a quick turn and snap.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just getting old. Maybe I would have stayed and held my ground in a dogfight when I was four or five. But I decided discretion was the better part of valor and moved on. Heck, what's the point of trying to play the hero amid such rabble?

Better just to turn my bowed and bloody head to Molly, letting her voice her high-pitched concerns as she treats my wounds. Even at eight years old, it's good to have a den mother to care for you. The playground of pugnacious hounds can wait. Sometimes it pays just to sleep off a bad social experience on the couch in the afternoon sunshine and dream of a world where you're forever the top dog, the strong, fast-witted and never-challenged king canine who always somehow manages to pull victory out of the jaws of defeat.

PS - I'm not blaming any of the dogs in the posted picture. These four were around in the park that day but the photo is just to give you an idea of how we dogs like to mix it up.