One beautiful hot summer day, when we were kids, my younger brother Jason decided to take our large outside dog, Brutus for a walk. Now Brutus wasn't an outside dog because of his large size. He was an outside dog because he wasn't the brightest bulb in the box. If big-dumb-dog was a word you could look up in the dictionary, you just may of found a picture of Brutus. He knew his name and one command: sit.
So, without our mother's permission, my younger brother, Jason, who probably barely weighed 50 pounds at the time and most certainly less than the dog, got the leash and went to out backyard. There he attached the leash to Brutus's collar and disconnected Brutus from his cow-chain. Ordinary dog chains you by at your local store Brutus broke like twigs.
Jason made it down the driveway to the sidewalk with Brutus. At the sidewalk is where Brutus decided to run. And Jason being too small to control our big dumb lovable dog, fell. Except Jason held tight to Brutus's leash and Brutus proceeded to drag poor little Jason on his bare back down the side walk. It was a hot summer day so Jason was only wearing a pair of shorts.
I yelled for our mother, who quickly stepped out the front door and yelled our dog's name and the one command he knew, "Brutus! Sit!" Brutus promptly and obediently sat. He sat right on Jason's face.
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