Charlie and The Bulls…

I think when we’re walking Charlie sometimes gets a hair up her docile, Labrador butt.

Today she un-characteristically charged a bull who was contentedly chewing cud, eyes at half mast, minding his own bullish business.

Charlie decided he was too close to the edge of the field that ran alongside the verge she patrolled.

He was startled from his reverie by a snarling muzzle only a few feet from his wet, black nose and scrambling to all fours he turned and fled to his bull brother for safety.

I wasn’t too keen on the prospect of two angry bulls hefting their combined weights against the barbed wire fencing and breaking loose on the lane!

“Charlie! No!” I firmly commanded and she ran back to me her offensive behavior having had the desired effect.

The Brothers Bull stood eying the dog from a distance, grunting through their nostrils.

But she was antsy now and wasn’t to be held back by my voice,

Believing she could see the pair of them off she charged the fence once again giving them what for,


Hey You! Get off-a-my-road!

her haunches wagging back and forth like a sassy disco dancer,

her jaws snapping at the thin air,

her guttural barks cracking into feeble, high pitched yapping.

They stood and stared.

Sixty pounds takes on a few thousand!

“No Charlie!  No!”  I cried out again.

She came running back to me, her tongue hanging out from the exertion, her eyes locked on mine as if to say,

“I did well didn’t I?  That’ll teach them to get too close to my road!”

No sense no fear as my mother would say!

Share this:

No comments so far!

Leave a Comment