Walking Sparky
A true story
I stopped reading and looked up from my book to watch Brett Dickman bounced down the stairs carrying his Roller-blades, Sparky was right behind him. Brett plopped down on the bottom stair step and proceeded to put on his skates.
Going skating? I asked.
Gee, what gave that away? Brett answered with a smile.
Oh, wise guy! I said in a Three Stooges Voce. Are you taking Sparky?
Maybe, if he lets me put on my skates. Laughing, Sparky was licking his face.
“I know the feeling. Every time I put on my shoes he knocks my hands away making it impossible for me to tie my shoes sometimes.” I commented.
“Why does he do that?”
“I think he is just playing.”
“Well, I wish he would play somewhere else. Stop it Sparky!” Brett ordered. Sparky pushed one of Brett’s hands away from the skates.
“Stop it Sparky!” He did it again.
“Stop it Sparky! Stop it!” Fed up now Brett pushed Sparky away from him. This action means “let’s play” to Sparky, so he pounced on Brett upper torso knocking him to the floor. Sparky nipped at
Brett’s legs. Brett screamed:
“You don’t kill your master!”
Brett laughed and screamed some more,
“You don’t kill your master!” Sparky gently bit Brett’s arms, buttocks, and legs. Brett laughed hysterically and I laughed too. Brett screamed when Sparky got too rough. When this happened Sparky released his hold on Brett, stepped back and looked at him with concern tilting his head to one side. Sparky’s expression was absolutely adorable. It is like he was saying, “What did I do?” Brett seeing this usually continued the horseplay until the next scream. Brett and Sparky wrestled all over the place boy on dog, dog on boy. When Brett pinned Sparky to the floor Sparky would get even by biting Brett on the butt after he freed himself. Brett would let out a loud cry “OUCH!” and that usually ended the roughhousing. This time Brett walked away with a scowl on his face looking victimized. Brett returned to the bottom step of the stairs and proceeded to put on his skates. Sparky sensing something about to happen waited for Brett’s next move.
“I’m taking Sparky out with me.” Brett announced.
“Come Sparky.” Sparky ran to the door nearly knocking him over.
“Hold it you two! Sparky cannot go out unless he’s on a leash. You know the rules.”
I hooked Sparky up to his leash and handed the end of it to Brett.
“Be careful, I don’t want him running around in the street okay?
“Yeah, I understand.”
“Keep a hold of him at all times.”
“Okay—already!”
The screen door opened and Sparky took off like a Greyhound at the races. Brett flew out after him, his skinny ankles bowed in and out from being off balance. I watched him wobble around the corner of the house like a person about to fall on slippery ice. I walked out of the house and watched Sparky pull Brett down the hill.
“Stop! Sparky! Stop you dumb dog!”
Suddenly Sparky was at the bottom of the hill. He made a wide turn, and started running back up the hill.
Brett held fast and made the turn like a water skier.
“Sparky! Stop! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
“Stop you dumb dog!”
But, Sparky ran faster. Then one of Brett’s skates struck a rock making him dance in the street like Gene Kelly. He recovered, danced again, recovered, and danced some more. Still Brett holds onto the leash. I watch in amazement. Zoom, both the dog and then the boy just miss hitting me.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Brett screams. Stop you dumb dog!
Sparky is still running up hill, now he is on the sidewalk, he jumps over a single rail wooden fence. First the dog, then the boy, only the boy did not jump the fence he went through it. The fence broke in half.
The child and the fence lay in ruins. Stunned silence followed. Sparky sat next to Brett panting and licking his face. Brett slowly sat up and looked around. He was alive, nothing was broken and he was still holding onto the leash.
You dumb dog! Are you trying to kill me? Look at me
when I am talking to you! Sparky tilted his head to one side.
Stupid dog.
Cynthia!
Yes, Cearra. Brett’s little sister called me into the house.
What you need?
More juice.
“Coming right up.”
Meanwhile, Brett looked around, no one saw him. He collected himself, looked at the broken fence
then came home.
“Good thing that old fence was rotted” Brett thought.
“Sparky you stupid dog! Look what you made me do! When I say stop I mean stop!” Brett
jerked his leash hard; Sparky looked at him and licked his hand.
“You are a bad dog! I don’t want anything more to do with you!” Brett scolded as he entered the house.
“Your back already?” I said with a knowing tease.
“Do you know what your dog just did to me?“ He yelled looking crazed.
(I pretended not to know.)
“No, what?”
“Do you know what your dog just did to me?” He repeated out of breath.
“Tell me?”
“I am never walking your dog again!” Brett screamed at me.
“Calm down. Why? What’s the matter? Maybe you should sit down. Let me get you a soda.”
Brett took a deep breath then he told me what I already knew, he made it out to be a near death
experience.
“Are you okay?” I asked looking for signs of injury and giving him the concerned look he wanted and deserved.
“Yes I am, but the fence isn’t!”
“Oh, dear. Did something get broken?”
“Yeah, it was almost me!”
“Your damn dog pulled me through a fence.”
He drank some of his coke and looked at me wide-eyed.
“A fence! Oh, dear. Do you have any splinters in your stomach?”
Brett pulled his shirt up and said, “No.”
“Well that’s good. Splinters are terrible to pull out. How
did this happen?”
“Your dog pulled me through the fence.” He said in annoyance.
“Sparky! You-bad-dog. You’re not supposed to kill your master, or Brett. What has gotten into you? Bad dog!” Sparky sat there, not understanding a word I was saying. However, the scolding seemed to appease Brett. I apologized for my dog’s behavior and after that, I explained to Brett the “principle of letting go” and its benefits.
“Brett, why didn’t you let go?”
“You told me not to.”
“Well, the situation called for letting go, don’t you think. What if he was running you into
a car? Would you have let go then?”
“Yes, but that’s different.”
“Brett?”
Brett walked over stairs, sat down and started taking his skates off.
“I am never walking your dog again.” He grumbled. After that he went into the living room and
started watching TV. A few minutes later Brett was wrestling with Sparky. Sparky was nipping at his legs and crotch.”
I walked into the living room and stood behind the couch and watched them.
Brett yelled to me, “Letting go. [Laughing & giggling] That’s a good thing to remember.”
[Barking] [Barking] [More laughing]
I’ll do that next time. Ouch! Sparky! You don’t kill your master!
The End
Written by: Cynthia E Martin
Date: 12-30-96
