fight and flight

 

“Where is he?”
I looked around through the brush. I could hear a rustle and tried to locate where it was coming from. I saw a glimpse of a movement. There he is!
” Come!”
The movement momentarily stopped, and scurried away.
We had been walking. When they saw a cat or a mongoose or whatever and went after it, I could not hold on the leashes, was pulled, tripped and found myself looking at the ground.
As soon as I gathered myself up, I went after them calling their names. But, they were busy, preoccupied. The female one finally came back when she saw that I had a tidbit in my hand.
He, however, would not give up until he finishes. Not even for food. I was aware of that tendency of his. I had to go in.
More I chased, away he went. He was getting closer to the neighbor’s yard. My heart was pounding. What if they caught him before I could get to him!?
I saw him on the edge of the neighbor’s yard where they had planted some hedge shrubs. He was intensely sniffing the ground. I could see the end of the leash. I quietly reached for it. Almost there…
It slipped through my fingers as he dodged the shrub and stepped onto the yard. Oh, no!
I rushed after him, through the shrubs, beaten by twigs and leaves, and spotted him surveying and sniffing next to the house. I forged ahead, not running but fast walking, and jumped. I caught the leash, lying on my stomach, and tightly held it with both hands.
I got up, pulled the leash, led us back out of somebody’s yard and collected the female that was tied and waited in the jungle.
I was shaking when we somehow arrived in our yard.
Nobody came after us for trespassing. Phew…

IMG_3311_2 bw

 

 

 In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Fight or Flight.”

 “Write about your strongest memory of heart-pounding, belly-twisting nervousness.”

 

 

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