Adventures from the Wayback Machine

Hey it's October how did that happen??

Last night the Tumbleweeds were in Jackson, Mississippi at the Flying J truck stop. The last time we were here we had our dear Harley, aka the best dog a Tumbleweed could have, and she and I had a little adventure.

Let's get in the Wayback Machine and cue up that harp music that accompanies having a flash-back. 

There we were in for the night in Jackson and Himself catches up on his logbook and I take Harley for a walk. It was dark and in the back of the parking lot was a patch of woods behind a fence. A nice bit of grass lined the length of the fence so we headed back there and I let Harley off her leash to get in some free sniffing. It was fairly lit on the grass side of the fence but behind it loomed the dark woods, thick with trees, I couldn't see anything. 

Harley was ahead of me happily sniffing back and forth at the fence line when she suddenly got still and the hair along her back went up. Her mohawk, we called it. I called her to come to me but she started chuffing at the fence. I was getting creeped out and didn't want to get close the fence but I was worried for her too. Naturally, she wasn't listening to me, so I walked up to her and put the leash back on. 

I couldn't see anything but I could feel we were being looked at from behind the fence. The hair on my neck was standing up too. A voice from the dark "Is that a Pit-Bull?" I almost jumped out of my skin. The barking began in earnest, Harley style, which sounded like a rooster with laryngitis. She was a Boxer, but I figured the guy might be scared of a Pit-Bull so I said yes and pulled her away, pretending to hold her back from ripping his throat out. In truth she never met a person she didn't like and would happily go off and live with Jack the Ripper probably. She saw the best in everyone. The disembodied voice called "I got a red-nosed pig, wanna pet it?"

We got out of there but fast. I never got to see the red-nosed pig, thankfully. Harley and I made a bee-line back to the well-lit and crowded parking lot, grass be damned, she would have to make do on the pavement. We didn't go back to the truck immediately, in case we were being watched. I didn't want to be murderlized in my sleep by a red-nosed pig.  

Harley's gone now so I didn't get a chance to repeat that little adventure. I would though. I'd love to hear that little sick rooster bark again.