He was beaten (he knew that), but he was not broken. He saw, once for all, that he stood no chance against a man with a club. He had learned the lesson, and in all his afterlife he never forgot it. That club was a revelation. It was his introduction to the reign of primitive law...
- Jack London, The Call of the Wild
When we moved from our hometown, to a well-known college town in the Ozarks back in 1995, the neighborhood we chose still had vacant lots. In my cul-de-sac, there were a few of those lots, one of them right next to me. A guy down at the end of the block, on the corner, had a fierce-looking German Shepherd who was known as Bulldozer (Mr. Dozer to me and you). Normally, the dog was secured behind a privacy fence, where his only menacing action was a bark; but now and again, the angry old savage got out and roamed the neighborhood.
It was one of those evenings that our paths crossed. I had finished my long walk, it was winter and a cold night, and I turned the corner, just passing Bulldozer’s house, when that deep bark startled me. I looked up, hoping to not see what I saw. He was coming right for me.
I froze, but when he got close, he hesitated so I yelled as loud and as ferociously as I could. His head cocked a bit, as if he was thinking, “That’s it? That’s all you got?” And it pretty much was.
Facing him, I slowly walked toward my front door, about four houses away. Bulldozer barked and growled and danced around me, threatening severe fang damage but always pulling back. I kept the loud noises going in hopes he wouldn’t want to eat a mental patient, or that all my neighbors would come out at the same time with shotguns and let him have it.
But there was no rescue, so we continued the ritual toward my safe haven. I reached the lot next to my house, where an unfinished house now stood. The yard was littered with boards and shingles and fast food debris. I moved across what would soon be a front yard, not worrying about stepping on a nail with the threat of slobbery fangs so near. But for some reason, my pursuer stopped at the edge of the lot, and now I was within a few leaps of my front door; I had made it.
Bulldozer remained in the spot but continued barking. I looked down, and near my foot was a big rock, almost perfectly round and about the size of a softball. Not willing to leave well enough alone and still scared but more angry now, I picked up the rock and said something like “Eat this!” as I hurled it at his head with everything I had.
It was a perfect throw, and it hummed through the cold night air right at the toothy target. For a split second, I thought to myself, “Uh oh. I’ve killed a dog.”
It was the greatest throw of my life. Nolan Ryan couldn’t have made a better one. The large stone whizzed within inches of his head, probably brushing the black fur before disappearing into the night.
The beast Bulldozer stared at me, not barking anymore. I looked back at him and said something I can’t repeat here. He cocked his head again and turned toward home, and I went into my house, feeling somewhat relieved and thinking in some strange way that I’d won.