It seems a little strange to talk about horses in stories about dogs, but they played a pivotal part in my interaction with dogs. Usually they would get a whiff of my pants and you could see the puzzlement on their faces, wondering what in blazes that smell was. It would confuse them enough that I’d usually get my business done by the time they became accustomed to me and left me alone. As a result I was never afraid of any of them.
That said, I met a man in the Anola area who wanted to sell his hobby farm. I don’t know what his profession had been but now he was retired and raising Morgan horses as a hobby. They were fine animals that he was more proud of than his lovely bungalow. The reason they wanted to sell was that he had become ill on their last trip to Mexico – some sort of stomach problem that he couldn’t get rid of, no matter the treatment. It was another case of getting his house in order so to speak.
I found a buyer, also in the Anola area who was going to deed his house to his son if he found the right property to move into. It was a long and difficult negotiation but finally it was done. I had the final counter offer in my hand and needed to present it to the buyer (whose home I had not yet been to) for his signature.
It was a Sunday morning when I arrived at the buyer’s home and as I pulled up in the driveway, there, standing in the middle of the front lawn in the direct path to the front door, was a great Rottweiler (dog), staring at my car. He stood like a statue, not barking, not wagging his bum, not growling – nothing. I knew I had to get from my car to the front door. I’ve found that in most instances, people will call their dogs inside to allow entry. It wasn’t so in this case. Not a soul showed up at the door or the living room window for that matter.
Now I had to decide whether I wanted to risk my life for the sake of a sale or not. Well, when you’re in the business the deal is always more important than your own life, so I decided to risk it. Confidently, I got out of the car and walked directly for the dog. He still didn’t move. As I passed him, he turned and followed me up the front steps. All the way up I was waiting for the inevitable bite in the butt (which never came). The owner answered the door and invited me in as though it was nothing unusual. He had been watching television and hadn’t noticed me pull up. I seated myself on the couch at his direction and the giant dog climbed up too, placing himself on my lap and licking my face like I was his long lost friend.
The whole affair was an awkward situation with me trying to pull my briefcase out from under this hundred and twenty pound lap dog. But finally I managed and we got our business done to everyone’s satisfaction. I left there with a new appreciation for Rottweilers.
As a sad end note to this story, the old fellow in the bungalow finally passed away from his illness. This in itself was a lesson in taking care of business.