Yesterday I met a new neighbor. At the time, I was doing a double-time performance of The Hustle trying to protect myself from his ferocious dog. Gnarling and growling and gnashing his teeth, that pooch was gunning for me.

"Ruben! No!" my new neighbor said. Then he grabbed the little thing and put it in his coat pocket.

Ruben is a Chihuahua.

After we introduced ourselves, I continued on my way with a laugh. Not because I was frightened by a pocket-puppy — though in my defense, I was mostly afraid of stepping on him.

No, because I was reminded of my Mother. And forced to contemplate that I'm as embarrassing as she was. Well, almost...

Mom once met a neighbor as a result of an encounter with a dog. His name was Duke, and he was a Great Dane. I don't know where he lived, but he always got out. He was playful and sweet and just wanted to be scratched behind the ears. He'd slobber on us kids waiting for the school bus, and then go on about his day.

Duke was actually one of few names I knew around there, because we'd only lived there a month. I was just starting middle school at the time — Still trying to remember my locker combination much less the names of all the neighborhood kids.

But I had taken notice of a pair of brothers named Troy and Tim. They were two and four years older than me, and — here's the really important part — the cutest boys on my bus. They lived ten houses down and to the left, which I'd counted so I knew how much time I had to get situated and look casual before the bus stopped in front of their house. I was still working my way up to eye contact, but I'd already tried on their last name.

Mom had taken to exploring the new neighborhood by striking out on an evening walk. She had done this every day for a few weeks without any problems. Until one day she met Duke.

She didn't know he just wanted to be scratched behind the ears. She was frightened, and Duke must have known it...

So she walked faster.

And he followed faster.

She started jogging.

He started galloping.

She broke into a frantic, screaming, arm-flailing sprint, and sought shelter at the first house she came to. Up the driveway, into the open garage, and through an unlocked door... She was safely separated from the scary sweet-natured dog...

And standing in Troy and Tim's kitchen. 

The whole family was there. They were at the table having dinner. I cannot imagine what they must have thought. Mom knew this was a situation that required some finesse as she calmed down and tried to explain. She introduced herself, but she was new around there, and there was no one they might know in common. Then she made eye-contact with the boys who appeared to be about my age and said, "Hi, I bet you know my daughter."