Have you ever watched a movie where the stupid ‘victim’ attempts to defend, usually herself, with something as stupid as a hair brush? When you see scenes such as that, don’t you just root for the axe murderer?
I used to, until such a situation happened to me.
I want you to picture the scene:
You are sitting in the woods, miles away from civilization, warming yourself by the campfire. The sun had set long ago, and your only view of the stars is a narrow gap left between the canopies of towering trees. Suddenly, and without warning, Nature calls.
Being “Country Broke” you have no worries about ‘doing your business’ sans-porcelain, however, proper camp etiquette dictates that you have to go a fair distance away from the campsite, even for #1.
It is pitch black only feet away from the campfire, you so take a flashlight and head off into the wilderness, leaving your spouse with his beer and your dogs sound asleep on a dog bed (There is a limit to the amount of ‘roughing it’ a dog will tolerate, after all…).
When the campfire is but a distant glow, you determine you have travelled an acceptable distance. Not wanting to draw attention to your ‘business’, you turn off the flashlight, putting yourself into a darkness that can only be described as blacker than black, and proceed to drop your drawers and start to, well, you know.
And then you hear the growl. The very low, menacing growl.
Until that particular moment, I found it unrealistic in horror movies that anyone could stop, mid-pee. At that particular moment, I discovered it actually WAS possible!
Before I go further, keep in mind I was in the WOODS. There are trees, shrubs, downed logs, etc., so even though I could see the campfire in the distance while standing, that was not the case while squatting. I had no stars, no moon, no light at all, and without something on which to ground my vision, that menacing low growl seemed to come from all around me at once.
Having performed the feat I thought impossible in horror movies, I remained absolutely still and silent. There was no noise around me, not even bugs, until… the growl returned, this time, louder, and from more than one source.
Wherever the growls were coming from, they were close. I couldn’t run because, well, I was still squatting and my pants were around my ankles. My only weapon, the flashlight, not the long police type, mind you, but a stumpy, albeit very bright lighted one. I couldn’t breath. My heart was racing. My first foray away from home and I was going to be mauled by creatures unknown, my broken body found with my pants down.
The growls returned, this time, louder, more menacing, and to my ears, more numerous in sources, seemingly coming from behind me.
So I did the only thing I thought I could to defend myself: I spun and turned the flashlight on, intending to blind the creatures just long enough for me to stand up, get my pants up and sprint back to the campfire, to the safety of Crabby, Slugger and Mortimer. OK, so maybe using the word ‘safety’ in the same sentence as Slugger and Mortimer is a stretch, but I was SURE Crabby would throw himself in front of the marauding pack of whatevers, buying me enough time to get myself, Slugger and Mortimer in the Jeep where at least we would be safe.
In the brief flash of light behind me, there was nothing, so I immediately turned the light off, still squatting in silence. The growls returned. I spun right and flashed again. Nothing. More growling, now turning into slight howls. I spun left and flashed again, again nothing. Up maybe? Nothing. There was only one more direction to go, and that was in front. It was there I found the glowing eyes, 2 sets of them, belonging to these menacing creatures:
I would like to at least be able to tell you that the boys’ eyes glowed an evil red, but they were actually a non-threatening blue.
I would like to tell you that there was actually something in the woods stalking me, and that Slugger and Morty had come to my defense, but it was actually a case where Mommy left, and the boys followed, too far behind to realize it was Mommy making the noises in the woods, and not some Hoodoo. Indeed, they looked quite shook up when I flashed them with the light, but were quite relieved when they heard my voice threatening to replace them with houseplants.
But it all ended well, we had a nice relaxed group pee and then made our way safely back to the campfire.
The moral of the story: Always know the location of your dogs if you’re going to pee in the woods after dark.