Fight or Flight. Or freeze.

It was a regular Saturday afternoon at this blogger’s home.  Life on Saturday.  I was doing a bit of mom mowing and generally putting around the house when a sudden crescendo of my youngins hoopin’ and hollarin’ caused me to look out the front room window.  There, barreling toward the front door were my 5 and 7 year olds hand in hand.  As they piled inside, red-cheeked and panting they eventually explained that they were fleeing for their life—from Pepper.  The curly little neighborhood free roaming dog.  Who’s the size of a fruit cake.

I did the comfort thing all while stifling my laughter because they were genuinely terrified.  And I couldn’t help but think how proud I was of my 2 ‘fraidy cats.  They were facing certain death at the paws and jaws of Pepper but they had the presence of mind to stick together and to run.

My own solidarity/survival instinct track record is not so stellar.  There was that one time, in ’88.  My younger sister and I were playing in the street when a free-roaming dog in our neighborhood—who was more the size of a fruit cake on ‘roids—gave chase.   I’d like to say I scooped her up or even grabbed her hand and hauled arse.  I’d like to, but I can’t.  I hauled one solitary arse, mine.  But I did yell C’mon!!!  Ruuuuuuun!!!!  We both got away un-scathed but it wasn’t my proudest moment.

image from

More recently I had another dog vs. man moment.  I was visiting a friend and taking her some food I’d prepared.  As I stood at the back of my mini-van with the hatch ajar to retrieve said food I heard behind me the undeniable sound of  panting and hoofs (?) pounding the pavement.  I turned and to my horror there were TWO red-eyed, meaty jowled pit bulls bounding toward me.   They were about a 4 feet away yall.

Did I run? No.

Did I jump in the open hatch and close it? No.

I stood stark still.  Filled with terror.

I did manage to rebuke them in the name of The Lord and (Hallelujah) they stopped.

And then they advanced again.  It took a couple more loud, panicked rebukings and my friend coming to her front door with her WTH face on before the animals retreated for good.

I would later marvel at my reaction.  Fight or flight my eye.  Walter Bradford Cannon needs to add a 3rd reaction: stand perfectly still praying/rebuking/hoping to evaporate and re-materialize in safer environs.  Thank you very much Sir.

Title/Day 88


The Saturday Post

Days/Title 68-70

Bibliographic Information:

Scientific American : How things work today

Wright, Michael

Crown publishers, 2000



My reaction:

Maybe next time.


Bibliographic Information:

Among the wonderful : A novel

Carlson, Stacy

Steerforth Press, 2011

Summary (Amazon):

In 1842 Phineas T. Barnum is a young man, freshly arrived in New York and still unknown to the world. With uncanny confidence and impeccable timing, he transforms a dusty natural history museum into a great ark for public imagination. Barnum’s museum, with its human wonders and extraordinary live animal menagerie, rises to become not only the nation’s most popular attraction, but also a catalyst that ushers America out of a culture of glassed-in exhibits and into the modern age of entertainment.

My Reaction:

Can’t muster one.


By now you know the drill:

The box : tales from the darkroom

Grass, Günter

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2010

And then there’s this (Kirkus review):

A family documentary in the form of a novel, leaving the reader to decide where the line blurs between fact and fiction.This book by the Nobel Prizewinning German author(Peeling the Onion,2007, etc.) ostensibly allows his eight offspring to come to terms with their father, their different mothers (four in all) and their divergent memories. Yet the novelist reinforces the spirit of fiction, if not fairy tale, from the opening “Once upon a time…” He explains that not only do all the characters in this fictional memoir have pseudonyms, but that they are “all products of their father’s whimsy, using words he has put in their mouths.” 

Still couldn’t muster a reaction. So I’ll include a picture of glitter AKA The-Happy-Maker as a  place holder (Not the movie Glitter AKA The-barf-maker):

Get your own supply. This here glitter's mine!