I loved Max. But he scared me, too.
He was so big, and I was so little. And no matter how much I believed he wouldn’t hurt me, and no matter how badly I wanted to play with him, I panicked when he got too close. He didn’t know his own strength.
So I ran. As fast as my short, toddler legs would carry me I ran to the tallest point in the yard. My 6’5” uncle.
I jumped on his feet and stretched up with everything in me willing his hands to reach down and pick me up. But he waited.
Every time he waited until Max’s giant, wet nose grazed the back of my head before he scooped me up into the safety of his arms. Out of the reach of Max, my grandparents’ St. Bernard.
No doubt it was a game in Max’s eyes. Less so in mine.
But I miss him still.
This post is part of the 31 Days: Family series. Read the beginning, and see a full index of posts, here.