Last night, I was walking Marilyn, the gorgeous golden retriever that I’m dogsitting. As you know, we’re up in the hills of Mill Valley, and I like to walk her along the windy roads and trails in the neighborhood. Along we walk, minding our own business, when suddenly, Marilyn reacts to a rustling in the bushes. Now, Marilyn reacting to anything is pretty exciting, so I immediately look over, and there, standing 10 feet away and staring directly at us, is a huge deer with monstrous antlers. This thing was a beast. I was probably eye to eye with it, and it’s antlers added another 2 or 3 feet.
Marilyn didn’t move. I didn’t move. The deer didn’t move. We all stood, staring at one another. I tried to remember what you’re supposed to do in these situations. With a bear, you’re supposed to make yourself bigger. Or, are you supposed to stay still? I can’t remember. But, this was a deer anyway. The only deer rule I know is that if you’re driving and you’re about to hit a deer, don’t swerve. Hit it. But, what do you do if you’re walking? I stood there, silently reviewing all information I had regarding wild beast emergencies. Turns out, very little.
The deer took a step closer.
“Get lost!” I scream. “Scram!”
Yeah. I said scram. The only other time I’ve ever even heard someone say “Scram” was Carla on Cheers, telling her hockey playing boyfriend to skedaddle. Who knew I had a scram in me?
Regardless, my screaming did nothing. We’re now 9 feet away from each other, still staring. I decide that we can’t just stand here all day. I mean, I want to go see The Notebook. I’ve got my tissues all ready. I’ve got to shake a leg. So, I decide that we’ll casually continue our walk. Fuck it. If the deer, reacts, so be it.
Marilyn and I take not 2 steps, when the deer runs out of the bushes and onto the road, now about 4 feet from us. I could practically touch him, he was so close. (I might be an idiot, but I do know that only boy deer have antlers. Pretty good, huh.)
My stunned silence turned uncontrollably into a scream.
“Oh my god, get the fuck out of here! Go!”
And, with that last scream, I king of threw the leash (still attached to Marilyn, mind you) at the deer. That was all he needed. He turned off running down the hill, knocking down trees and causing general mayhem.
“Wow. Marilyn. That was exciting, huh?”
She looks at me with disgust. I could see it in her eyes.
“I was still attached to the leash, bitch. What the fuck? Were you sacrificing me?”
“Marilyn, no, no, no. I would never. It was the only thing I could throw. Don’t worry. I’ll totally protect you.”
But we all know that’s bullshit. Take the dog. Have your way with her. Just let me go.