Panic…or don’t?

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Don’t panic.

The hyper little neighbor girl with her hair amuck is coming at warp speed on her bicycle down the sidewalk in the direction of my little poodle Max, who, for some unknown reason, has decided this is a good time to lie down and play dead on the very same sidewalk.

Panic.

I’m a good 20 feet away watering the flowers. Something bad is about to happen before I can stop it.

Don’t Panic.

I stand there, frozen, with the hose dripping–not sure what to do.  This might turn into some very sad irony at any second, Max.

Panic.

Do I yell at the girl to stop, scare the begeezus out of her, and make her crash or do I try to get Max out of the way?  Does she know what she’s doing…has she gone mad?  Can she see past her bangs covering her eyes?   Can I make it to Max and sweep him out of the way without him freaking out first?

Don’t panic.

The girl skids to a stop as if she was testing me and Max the whole time.  The devil in her eyes, she giggles with delight. I want to poise my hose in her direction, turn it on spray, and giggle in delight myself.  I resist.  Max wanders over to the little serial killer on training wheels and gives her a lick on the leg.

Maybe they were co-consprirators in this all along.

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7 thoughts on “Panic…or don’t?

  1. Talk about building tension in a small moment – and this can’t have been more than a few seconds worth of time! I can really see it, and your word choice is full of humor – the “little serial killer in training”! Love it!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I want to poise my hose in her direction, turn it on spray, and giggle in delight myself. I resist. This says it all! Sometimes it’s tough being the adult. I love your writing. It had me on the edge of my seat. I was really hoping Max would make it through…not so much the little devil. Ha!

    Liked by 1 person

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