I went to visit my good friends in Portland recently and they were a blessing. Feeling pretty crummy from a recent break-up, just completely lost. and my wonderful friends there took me in, took time out of their lives to spend with me, and helped me feel alive again, despite the fact I was suffering from one of the worst sinus infections I can remember. Met some new people, who were very kind, they let me crash on their couch the four or five days I was there. I am always reinvigorated when exposed to the kindness of strangers. From there I headed back to my father's house in southern Oregon, which I can tell you is not my favorite place to be. I was storing stuff there in preparation for my trip and looking for a place to lie low and conserve as much money as I could. His house though, is about ten miles from anything, surrounded by dense forest, which sounds lovely, but I promise you it is not. In the mornings I would either go hiking up in BLM land behind his house, or go on a run down the country road he lives on. Both of these activities had their own hazards attached to them. Hiking in the hills behind his house, I came across a huge fire pit that somebody had built, probably 6ftX6ft with a still live tree stump burning in the middle of it. It was surrounded by empty beer cans and quad tracks and it made me shudder as I pictured scenes from deliverance were I to be caught by the owner's of the encampment. Fortunately I was not, and I lived to encounter my next harrowing experience.
I had gone on a few runs in the week or so I had been staying there and it would seem that every house that neighbored my father's had very angry dogs in their yards. They would run right up to the fence, barking like mad, froth dripping from their mouth's, right up against the fences. I tried not to think too much of it as they all seemed to be fenced in and the gates closed and it was only a couple minutes til I was out of one dogs range and had moved on to the next one. Well one morning I had gone on a particularly long run and had to walk the last couple miles home. I was at the last house that I knew of that had dogs before I was home free. All three of the monsters were right up against the fence, snarling, biting the air, turning on one another and biting each other. I kind of chuckled as I walked by, seeing that the fence was quite secure. Right after this house was one more driveway before my father's and as I turned away from the three beasts there was a very curious, very large pitbull staring right at me. He was only about twenty feet away and a thousand things raced through my mind. Like "Oh Shit" and why hadn't this dog showed up on any of my other runs and would he leave me alone if I quietly and calmly crossed the street. The answer to the last question is no, no he would not. Just as I made it to the other side of the road, the pitty bounced into the air, not really sprinting for me as much as bounding up and down in my direction and barking and snarling and altogether just not looking pleasant. Immediately all my muscles were shot full of adrenalin. My legs were a milisecond from running but I could see it was too late for that. I only had one choice left, so I leapt into the air, threw out my arms and started barking and growling. I only wish I could have seen myself, I would have looked like a mad man. The dog, nearly upon me and me shouting "Ruh Ruh Ruh! Fuck You! Ruh Ruh!" He stopped about a foot short and we barked at each other for a good fifteen seconds before either one of us was confident enough that the other wasn't going to bite, to turn away. After that I didn't go running anymore. When I told my father what happened later, his advice was "You should have taken the pistol with you"
