It was an out of body experience. Or maybe it was in slow motion. Or it could have just been that time seemed to stand still.
Apply any cliche you want to, but it was certainly not your ordinary rest stop.On our way back from the Woolly Worm Festival in Banner Elk last weekend, we had to pull off of I-40 near Winston-Salem. Some luggage in the back of our SUV had slipped and was crowding Julianna, so we exited the interstate and edged onto the right side of the shoulder about 50 yards from the highway.
Jack opened the tailgate and, just a few moments later, I heard him scream, "Indy, NO!"
Indy must have mistaken "NO" for "GO" because I jumped out of the car just in time to see him shoot straight down the exit ramp like a 100-lb black, furry bat out of hell.
With Indy hurtling at full speed toward his certain demise, a car headed up our exit ramp. Jack waved his arms frantically and the car slowed to a stop, but Indy was not to be denied his date with destiny. Making a sharp right, Indy headed off the exit ramp and across the median directly for the highway.
There was really nothing Jack and I could do but stand helplessly and call his name. This was puppy play, and the "come" command was falling on deaf ears as he bounded closer and closer to I-40.
But he's just a puppy, you say? Surely you could have caught him, you say? How fast can an oversized 8-month old bear be, you say?
Now I do realize that Newfs are not known for their grace or their speed. But for those who believe that giant breed dogs can't move fast, I offer you Indy.
No, really, I offer you Indy. He's already house-trained and I'll even throw in a bag of dog food for free.
My mom calls Indy the fastest dog she's ever seen. Of course, that assessment is based on the time he tore away from her grip to run down a motorcycle in our neighborhood.Indy may not actually be THE fastest dog ever, but he was certainly fleet-footed enough to escape our middle-aged, out-of-shape efforts. So, clinging to hope alone (and with Newfie fur and slobber clinging to me), I yelled:
"OVER HERE, INDY!"
He immediately stopped, turned and started racing back toward me.
Knowing that I only had one shot to wrangle this steer, I crouched into sumo position and decided I was going for it.
This was my goal line stand. My now or never. My one shining moment.
This was my chance to tackle the Newf.
What came next is a bit of a blur.
There was a collision, a cloud of gravel dust, and a splatter of drool flying through the air.
Then Jack swooped in to latch leash to collar. The near nightmare was over and the lone casualty was a small cut on my knee.
I can only imagine what this whole episode looked like to those watching from their cars. And I do wonder if any 911 calls were placed from drivers on I-40 who reported seeing a miniature black bear attacking a woman on the side of the road.
As we walked an out-of-breath Indy back to our SUV, the driver of the first car that had stopped to avoid hitting him on the exit ramp gave us the "thumbs up" sign and then continued on.
But the next car in line stopped and the driver rolled down her window.
"Everyone okay?" she asked, as she peered from under her sunglasses.
I nodded, smiled, and said, "Yes, thanks."
She just shook her head, pushed her sunglasses back into place, rolled up the window and drove away muttering one four-letter word ...
"Newf."
