I went back to one of my favorite places and basked in the sheer sunniness of May in Walla Walla. I perched myself on the flood bank of Mill Creek with a fetching view between two cottonwoods complete with an excellent depth perspective and glowing light. As I was happily painting the color of the river I heard and felt the mighty footfalls of what must have been a prehistoric canine holdover. Far behind the beast was his owner spewing the pleas "leave him alone, good boy, come on!" all three of which the dog ignored. I realized my end was nigh and, refusing to meet my fate head on, simply decided to go out doing what I loved: staring at nature and painting.
The dog thundered right up behind me, touched his nose to my scalp, and, before devouring me whole, sniffed mightily. The sniff nearly wrenched my head from my shoulders but still I refused to turn and behold my end. After a few seconds of continuing to glower over me the mesozoic menace must have heard some small animal dying and thrashed off through the underbrush followed by its "master". I lived and finished a painting.