“I don’t consider myself a hero,” says Rock Hill, S.C., resident Tim Walling.
But to the elderly couple he saved from being torn apart by pit bulls, Walling is both hero and Good Samaritan.
But unlike other motorists in the rush hour traffic, who passed by the scene on the other side of the street, Walling spun his pickup around, drove up onto the sidewalk and jumped into the fray.
“A bunch of other drivers saw it too. They must have,” Dys comments. “It happened on the sidewalk and in a parking lot of an apartment complex on a busy city street, near an intersection with other busy city streets.”
Walling had no weapons, not even a stick or shovel, but ran yelling at the dogs and swinging his arms wildly.
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That story brings back a childhood memory.
ReplyDeleteI was maybe 13 or 14 years old and I had a little mixed breed dog that weighed about 30
lbs. He loved me absolutely and followed me everywhere he possibly could. I've plowed ground with a breaking plow from just after sun up until sunset and he followed me every step of the way, trotting in the plow furrow only stopping once in a while to lay down for half a minute or to chase a field mouse I plowed up then he'd come charging back at a full run to catch up and take his place in the furrow.
One day I was moving the tractor to another farm we leased about 5 miles down the road. He was trotting along behind me on a back road when two
mongrel German Sheppard mixes about 80 lbs each
decided to jump him. I never hesitated. All I had for weapons was a length of coiled up plow rope that I used if I had to tie him to something temporarily and a 12" adjustable wrench in the tool box of the tractor. I grabbed them both and sailed off the tractor like a paratrooper and landed amongst them. Between the two of us we whipped some ill bred German Shepard ass and they quickly retreated.
My dog was a little fellow but in his mind he was just as big as they were. No fear!
Before the flame war starts, I love German Shepherds. I've owned one and he was as fine a dog and loyal friend as you could ask for. I'm not kicking the breed. I'm just describing the two mange ridden flea bags that attacked my buddy.
followed me everywhere he possibly could. I've plowed ground with a breaking plow from just after sun up until sunset and he followed me every step of the way, trotting in the plow furrow only stopping once in a while to lay down for half a minute or to chase a field mouse I plowed up then he'd come charging back at a full run to catch up and take his place in the furrow.
DeleteJust wonderful.
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My dog was a little fellow but in his mind he was just as big as they were. No fear!
You can't buy memories, but if you could, they would be priceless.
Brock I'm going to say something you won't hear out of me much but this thought comes to me often and sadly I fail to follow it.
ReplyDeleteIf we would/could love and follow our Lord and Savior with the devotion that our dogs have for us the world wouldn't be in this mess.
All we would need to do is follow the country blacks in my county as they do. I have a great piece on this, but can't find it now.
Delete