I despise the game on the 360. Despise is a bit much -- but I don't care for it. The day I miss a fairway without a 30 MPH wind is the day I...ugh it's early and I got nothin. Look it's hard not to hit it straight, ok?So last night our young dog Skipper (he of the Chesapeake Bay Retriever blood) zipped out of the house and through our newly built fence chasing a rabbit. The fence is still gateless because if anything I am the master of the half completed project. I've really perfected that.
Our neighbors keep their horses in our back half (about an acre and a half of land, perfect for grazing) and I thought they were put away for the evening. They were not. The gate leading to our neighbor's property was open and the horses were chilling behind some trees . So I go looking for Skipper, stop by and pet the horses -- like a doofus -- and then Mary yells that she sees Skip in our back lot. So back I go and lo and behold there is Skipper...looking all shameful. I grab him by the collar and start to drag him back to our house. We're still in the back half of the property (behind the fence) and I hear the thundering of hooves. Bill forgot to close the gate. The gate was open to begin with but I should have closed it because...
Here comes all five horses investigating the commotion. Skipper goes prone. He won't move. This is a 65 pound dog who at the sight of the charging Quarter horses just decided -- screw this I'll play dead. The crazy horse of the lot then proceeds to try and step on Skipper like he's a giant brown snake.
It's at times like this that your love for your pets takes over -- you either love them like a family member or view them as simple side bets. Disposable sacks of fur that are easily replaced.
So I dive in, covering Skipper like he's on fire. The female Paint is stomping, Mary is yelling, Skip is still acting like he's been shot and I'm thinking I will never be a rodeo clown. Somehow, the Paint misses Skipper with every snort filled step (me too..) and finally Skipper decides to make a run for it. This whole ordeal happens maybe 15 feet from the fence. He seems to finally realize this and bolts -- zipping underneath the middle plank that keeps the horses from coming into our main backyard area.
Of course I can't run like him, so there I lay, on the ground. The Paint sees Skipper flee and then leans down and nudges me with her nose as if to say, "Dude I wasn't going to actually hurt anyone."
Anyway, sorry for that little tangent. I may not like Tiger Woods on the 360 but Brandon loves it on the Wii.
