The Time We (Almost) Defeated the Meanest Dog Ever

Will E Sanders

10-08-06

Old Man Morgan's horse farm sits atop a steep hill on the outskirts of my hometown of Laura, Ohio. When I was a kid, the meanest dog in the world held court there. On a muggy August day in 1996 — the day before the first day of high school — three foolish boys tried challenging that thing .

And we lost. This was no ordinary dog. In fact, I'm not entirely convinced it was a dog.

Somewhere along the line, the thing acquired the taste for human blood. For that reason, younger children speculated the beast was spawned from Lucifer's bosom. (Not really, I just enjoy seeing the word "bosom" in the newspaper. Pretty edgy of me, huh?)

We called the dog Cerberus after the three-headed dog in mythology that guards the gates to Hades. Besides, we were pimply-faced Dungeons & Dragon geeks at the time, so it made sense.

Everything about the vicious dog radiated near-death experience. In retrospect, that's probably what attracted my best friend Dave, Roben and I to the top of that hill that fateful day.

That and some other kid dared us to do it. You can't turn down a childhood dare — thems the rules!

We only asked ourselves, "Is this really a good idea?" after we had our bikes lined up at the top of the hill. The three of us turned our eyes down the steep descent, where (presumably) our bodies would be resting lifelessly mere moments from now — decomposing.

Old Man Morgan's house is 100 feet from the road. On the wooden planks of his porch that day, the white beast slumbered, or seemed to. As a result, we were able to march our bikes on foot up the hill without being gorged upon by Cujo.

By the time we reached the summit, we had all agreed to push off and pedal on the count of three.

"One," I said, my wheels beginning to roll.

"Tw-wooo," I proclaimed, pedaling.

"Three!" I shouted, the wind already on my pimply face.

Dave took off when I did. He must have sensed I would cheat and go on "2" through telepathic frequencies only best friends transmit.

As we reached Mach 3, I noticed movement from the porch. The demon dog Cerberus moveth!

I pedaled like my life depended on it, mostly because it did. Poor Dave tried his best to keep up, I had no clue what happened to Roben, and I was too busy worrying about how I would explain this all to my parents.

Halfway down, I glanced over and witnessed the dog just standing on the porch, still as a statute. I had no idea why the thing refused to chase us.

When I reached base camp with Dave eight seconds later, we realized why. Roben must have chickened out. We could vaguely see his outline a quarter-mile up the hill.

Meanwhile, Cerberus lurched toward the road and just waited. That dog was smart enough to know that if Roben didn't go down the hill, he would soon be pedaling the three-mile detour back into town.

At first, it appeared Roben might actually pull it off, but his progress was interrupted when the dog ran out right in front of him. In that split second, all of Newton's laws of motion were activated. It resulted in Roben (as his name implies) flying over the handlebars like he was shot out of a catapult. He crashed down into a deep country ditch and out of our view.

The dog followed Roben into the ditch, in all likelihood to tear our friend to shreds. Dave and I froze in fear. We did nothing because this was before cell phones.

Thankfully, the dog didn't stay in the ditch long — I guess because he thought Roben was already dead.

When asked for a first-person account recently, Roben replied the details are sketchy. "Seeing as I had a concussion, my recollection of the event is foggy to nonexistent," he wrote. "All I remember is the fleeting moments on the drive to the hospital."

I don't know what ever happened to that dog. As far I know, the thing died years ago. But after that day, none of us kids ever trifled with it again.

We were smart enough to learn that dog-day afternoon one important lesson in life: Every dog has its day.

To contact Will E Sanders, visit his website at www.willesanders.com or send him an e-mail at wille@willesanders.com. To find out more about Will E Sanders and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

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