By; Speaker Gerald A. Polley

I got along with most dogs very well.  There is one breed though, I have a strange repulsion for because they have a tendency to attack me for no reason.....that's Dobermans.
I was riding my bike in town one day by a house that was then in rather a secluded area.  Their Doberman was outside.  As he was chained I didn't pay much attention.  Suddenly I paid ALOT of attention because his teeth clamped down on my leg and he pulled me off the bike!  Somehow, fortunately, I managed to break free and get in a good kick.  As I was wearing heavy boots this did a considerable amount of damage.  The dog backed off, ki-yiing.  I gained my feet and began to examine my bloody leg.  The dog's owner came running across the road screaming "What did you do to my dog?  What did you do to my dog?"
"To hell with your dog!"  I screamed "Look what he did to me!"  The damned dog had broken the heavy chain he had been tied with!  Help arrived, and I was taken to the doctor's office for repairs and greeted with his usual "What in the hell have you done now?  Do you have any idea how much your mother owes me?"
"She's not gonna pay for this one!"  I snapped, explaining what had happened.
"Absolutely right!" the doctor agreed.
A couple of months later the same Doberman got lose again and bit a little girl in the face some ways down the road.  Her father didn't bother with the sheriff, he simply took his pump action shotgun, went up to the peoples' house, and made sure the Doberman never bit anybody again.  It would have been far better though, if the animal had been dealt with far sooner.  I can never understand people that keep a purely vicious dog.
There used to be a dear little lady in town that had a beautiful hedge around her house which was admired by everyone.  Of course it's long gone now.  I was walking by the house one day and she was out in the yard.  I greeted her cordially, and continued on by.
Suddenly something clamped onto my butt and I let out a tremendous yell and turned around to see her Doberman's head sticking out through a hole in the hedge!  The dog was grinning at me mischievously.
"King Richard!"  the woman screamed.  She ran over.  "Are you all right?"  she asked.
"I think so," I answered.  I was.  He hadn't even broken the skin but you wouldn't have believed the bruise he left.
"He's never done anything like that before!"  the woman managed.  "I don't know what got into him!"
"Well, I just hope it doesn't get into him again!"  I managed, and hurried off, wanting to put a great deal of distance between me and the dog.  As far as I know King Richard never bit anybody else!  I wish he hadn't bit me.
My final Doberman story came when I hitchhiked to the state capitol to get a permit for the motor scooter I had bought, refurbished, and was ready to ride.  I had gotten the permit and was headed home walking down a quiet street when I heard a noise.  I looked to see a large Doberman charging down the street after me.  Wanting to find a less open place I ran down the street and jumped a low wall.  The only problem was, the wall was much lower on the other side, and I landed beside some peoples' swimming pool.  An old couple were sitting there with a young girl in one of the skimpiest bikinis I'd seen up to that time. "Well!"  the girl laughed, "Have the marines landed?"
A huge boxer rose from behind her chair and came out growling at me menacingly.  At that moment the Doberman came flying over the wall.  Having made the same mistake I did, he hit the ground rather hard, letting out a rather loud yip.  He gained his feet, however, and turned around, again looking at me menacingly.  Then, the boxer charged forward barking at the top of his lungs.  The Doberman took one look and literally ran up the wall!
To this day I can't believe he made that leap!  But his visit was very brief.  The boxer snorted after him, turned around, walked back to me, jumped up on me, and began to lick my face. "St. Peter!"  the older woman called, "You stop that!  Mind your manners!"
The dog got down begrudgingly.  He was enjoying the ear scratch I was giving him, and took his position by the young lady. "Well," the man said, "sit down young man!  Rest yourself!  Being chased by Zeus is not one of life's most pleasant experiences.  May, get the young man a sandwich!"
We visited for several minutes, then the man very kindly gave me a ride outside of town where I'd be able to easily catch a lift home.  He assured me he would register another complaint about Zeus being lose.  I certainly hope he did, though his chasing me caused me to meet some very nice people, I still would have preferred to meet them some other way.
I never got to ride the scooter, by the way, except around the field.  An old friend of the family was killed on his motorcycle that same day and my mother refused to let me ride it on the roads.
"You've fallen off your bike so many times," she remarked, "I $on't want you falling off THAT thing at forty miles an hour!"
She was probably right.  A while later however, I got my first car, and that more than made up for not getting to ride the scooter.


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