At my parents cabin in Fairview there is a huge sledding hill that the kids all love to go on. Almost every year someone inevitably gets hurt yet every year they come back for more and try to best their records. This year it was dogs and not accidents that put a damper on things. I was going down the hill with Andy and two dogs chased after us. The bigger dog bit a hole through the back of my coat and the little dog bit Andy's hand...luckily the glove protected his hand and my coat protected me. When we reached the bottom of the hill after the biting incident I marched back up the hill determined to kick the crap out of those dogs. I am not normally a violent person but when someone or in this case something goes after my kid I lose the ability to think rationally. Anyway, I was yelling and screaming and basically charged the dogs who in turn charged at me. You would think at this point I would realize I was outnumbered and back slowly away but unfortunately the crazed mother bear in me didn't keep me from moving forward with my plan. Luckily the dogs stopped about 5 feet in front of me so I started kicking snow at them and backed them into their garage. I guess I'm glad that I didn't have to actually kick the dogs because the heavy duty snow boots I had on could have done some serious damage and I would have felt bad afterwards. My Dad came down the hill shortly after and talked to the owners who weren't even aware the dogs were outside they took them back into their house. Needless to say, Andy who was pretty traumatized by the incident didn't go sledding again for the rest of the time we were there. Once the dogs were inside the rest of the family managed to have a pretty good time.
