Rocky and I were youngsters who would often swing the golf clubs around the yard. The folks didn't like the nice divots that our clubs would leave in the lawn while at the same time, Rock and I were getting tired of hitting those little woofel balls that floated aimlessly around. So what did we do? Good question; Rock and I, along with the hero of the story, my dog Junior, decided to go up to the local elementary school and hit real golf balls, not having to worry about fixing divots.
Rocky, Junior and myself were having fun swinging the sticks when this big hefty lug of a janitor, or "maintenance engineer" (don't want to hurt the guy's pride too much in case he reads this blog) opened one of the school doors and started yelling at us for golfing on school property. Rocky immediately froze, became scared and asked me for a hug. I told him no, and before I could do anything our hero, Junior, took off running ferociously towards the janitor. I honestly have to give the janitor credit at this point for not running inside and shutting the door for protection. I know I would have.
Juju, short for Junior, tracked this "maintenance engineer" down like a wild tiger tracking a zebra. Without hesitating, Juju sunk his teeth into the guy's ankle. In reaction, the big fella jumped and tried to kick Juju, but it was too late; Juju was already running as fast as he could back over to me. With Rock still in shock, I picked him up and carried him on my shoulders like a wounded soldier- thats not true, sorry, but in reality, we quickly took off running home as fast as we could- laughing uncontrollably once we made it a safe distance.
That is probably the fondest moment I have from my childhood. Juju has since passed away, but make no mistake, I still miss "my boy" and reflect upon him quite often. Thankfully, Brynn and I now have Rio to make memories with.
For those of you wondering what the killer attack dog Juju looked like:
The best of this story is that Junior hardly even barked at people. I remember when Shirlene Porter tackled Zak once and held him down and gave him wet willies. Junior did nothing, but for some reason, he didn't want this janitor messing up our backswings. Very funny story. Those were the days when our golf bags only had 3 wood, 2, 5, 7 and 9 irons. Oh yeah, and a putter that looked like it was stolen from Golf City's mini golf course.
ReplyDeleteha ha ha! That is a GREAT story. I loved it when you carried Rocky on your shoulders like a wounded soldier! so funny.
ReplyDeleteThose were some good times. If it wasn't golf at Midland, it was football in the street, knee football in your basement, or baseball in the back yard.
ReplyDeleteRockShow, I don't remember that Shirlene story. You sure that wasn't one of your childhood fantasies?
ReplyDeleteHey congrats on the pregnancy! Hope all is well with you guys, and we hope you pay us a visit down in the valley of the sun sometime soon!
ReplyDeleteThe part Deanna doesn't realize is that I wasn't running from the janitor, I was running from Zak who kept yelling "I'm Mitch Buchanan, I'll save you". I couldn't convince him I didn't need saving, so being the friend that I am, allowed him to carry me home. Backyard baseball was awesome, me and Sunni always killed you and Jordan. I think we need to do another post and tell about our "purse joke" legacy.
ReplyDeleteReminds me of the time when me, Matt W., Eric S., Cody N.,and whoever else was there went to the same elementary and did the same thing, except we used real golf balls. It wasn't soon after that I was hitting a ball that I put it through the window of the school. The amazing thing is that it came back out the hole I put it in, I grabbed it and we all took off. I don't know if you were there.
ReplyDeleteI was there. Agreed, I still remember thinking how in the heck did that ball roll all the way back to you.
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