This story is not about Lt. Linda. It involves my second wife, the redheaded Vicki. Vicki was a beautiful woman, a professional model and a Playboy magazine feature. She was 5'10" tall and a body that made men turn around in circles and pop their eyeballs when she went by. Long legs and well endowed top. (40 D) She was also a city girl and when I married her I moved her out to my farm. Now as good looking as she was you can imagine that she had men following her and even attempts to take her home under their arm. She usually carried a .357 Mag Derringer in her purse. In the city she was at home and could usually handle anything that came along. But when I got her to the farm she was scared of everything. The coyotes and raccoons and snakes scared her more than a serial rapist. And to make matters worse I was gone doing my Army training for weeks at a time. So one day I was just coming back from two weeks of training and pulled my truck up in the drive and hopped out. I like to jumped clean out of my skin when a loud barking set up and I could hear what sounded like automoble crash coming from the other side of the house. In no time at all a HUGE black dog came loping around the side of the house dragging a metal shed at the end of his lease. Yes, a metal shed not a dog house. My metal shed to be exact.
He had big teeth and I was wishing I still had my M-16 in my hands. I would willingly go out to fight a half a dozen enemy soldiers before I would take on a dog this big. And besides enemy soldiers don't bite. Well, some times the female ones do but it is all in good fun. So when in doubt RETREAT! And I did, right into my truck and sat there honking the horn until Vicki came out and with just one hand on the monsters head lead him, dragging my shed, to the back yard. It seems that this huge dog (I mean huge, he would stand on his hind feet and put his paws on my shoulders and his head was higher than mine. And mine is 6 ft. off the ground), this dog was in the dog pound. Vicki felt she needed protection when I was gone and she went to the dog pound and talked her cousin (boy cousin) into giving her this monster. The reason she had to talk him into it was because the dog was in the slammer for biting 4 people three of which were still in the hospital. Now that the rabis tests were over it was suppose to be needled. So he made out the "Deceased papers" and gave the big black thing to Vicki
It was 3/4 black lab and one quarter horse. But Vicki could handle it. I could not. Why? It did not like men, or especially men in uniform.
So every night when I got home I would have to honk the horn and Vicki would come out and let me in. One day I had enough of this, I was going to shoot that SOB and I grabbed my 45 auto and jumped out of the truck. He was on his way to kill me when he saw the gun. I never seen such a fast turn around in my life. He ran into the shed that was following him. AHA! he is afraid of guns. So from then on I would come home, get out of the truck, pull out my gun and go into the house. After a while I began to think, this is ridiculous, I am having to shoot my way into my own house every night.
So I decided to use psycology on Terminator. I had a little beagle pup in a kennel on the other side of the drive way. So every night I would stop over there and I saved some of my lunch for the pup. I would pick him up and pet him and feed him some tidbits and coo over him. Every day I would carry him closer to the porch. finally after three weeks I could sit on the porch and play with the dog and Terminator would just lay over there and look at me. Finally a month went by and I was petting the pup when BUMP! something hit the under side of my arm,(damn near broke it) It was Terminator. he was jealous. He wanted petting too. From that time on we were friends and he would not allow anyone to come near me just as he protected Vicki and the kids. There is more about Terminator but I will tell that in another story.
If a man strikes you on the cheek
Being a Christian the only thing you can do
Is to help him up off the ground.