Happy Birthday to my brother. It's a travesty that he has to be far away from his family and friends today--well any day, but I sincerely wish that he could be here with us.
Life would be perfect if hard times had fast forward buttons and good and memorable times had pause buttons..
Today, I want to share a story with you that is ingrained in my mind. I am terrified of dogs. I own two of my own and I LOVE animals, but I turn into a nervous mess around unfamiliar dogs. I know that you're probably wondering what this has to do with my brother, but I'll get to that point soon enough.
When I was a child, I was fearless, most children are. The only time I ever really saw true terror was when my mom was angry, she could put fear into God, that woman *shudder* (LOVE YOU MOM!). I remember my mom had bought me this pair of jeans, if it's one jean is it still a pair? Any who, they had really beautifully embellished satin flowers on one pocket and I had BEGGED my mom to buy them for me. We were really poor then, so it was a big deal when my mom finally made the purchase. Of course, the day I finally got them, I wanted to wear them outside while I roller bladed around our complex. One of our neighbors had this mean looking black dog, but I never played with or messed with him. On this particular day, he was outside with his owner, Holly (she was a freshman in high school).
Since Holly was outside with said demon dog, I didn't pay any attention and continued about my way, just rollerblading. As I rolled around and around, I noticed the dog started giving me these crazy eyes looks. Unfortunately for me I didn't take heed of the warning signs, IE: the crazy eyes and gnarling face. As I made my last round the dog lunged at me and started attacking me. He had me at the knee and even as I was screaming and crying for help, that heifer Holly ignored me, and calmly walked inside as her dog ripped into my knee and completely ruined my new pants.........and my knee!
Just when I thought I was about to meet my maker this little boy in a diaper, cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat struts over and kicks the crap out of this dog over and over all the while saying "get away from my sister, stupid dog." My little brother had come to my rescue. The very little brother that I hated dragging around in his little red radio flyer wagon came to save me, and not only that, but tried to drag me back home. I don't really remember what happened after that, I just remember that my brother was there when no one else was. That is kind of how I have always felt about him to this day.
He's always there. He doesn't have to say or do anything, but he's there, if that makes sense..Always trying to save the day.
To my little cowboy...thank you and Happy Birthday. *P.S. That was my Public Enemy stage. Don't judge.
