BYU did a little punting of the Terriers

When my wife reads this I’ll be in trouble. But what led to this did get response from one reader I can relate to.

Has anyone ever kicked one of those little dogs when they come yapping at your feet. Just pushed them away? Well, my wife is an animal lover supreme. Not the PETA type, but she has stickers in the windows of our vehicles and on our front door about proper treatment of animals from an organization with a name I can’t remember. She donates every year and gets calendars that feature photos with with cute dog and cat faces.

I once told her I kicked on of those little dogs who attacked me when I was a teen and jogging up a hill near my home. She lost respect for me right on the spot. I told her it was just a reaction, a reflex. The little bugger scared me and I reacted. I have never harmed an animal since, except for shooting some rabbits with some Scouts. I never did that again either. Oh, and there are fish. I do catch fish.

Anyway, in my column Friday about BYU’s win over Wofford Thursday, I had a line in there about how pesky the Terriers were and how they were like the kind of little dog you felt like punting. My wife would have censored that on the spot.

But this morning I got the following email from a guy who can relate. I won’t use his name, just his initials, CW.

Here is the email…

In your report from Denver you wrote, “[Wofford players] barked and nipped at BYU, like those tiny dogs you feel like punting.”

I actually did punt a terrier once.

On my first LDS mission in Mexico my companion and I were tracting on the outskirts of the capitol. We approached a home that had a fence and gate some 40 feet or so from the house. We opened the gate (we knew it was meant, in part, to keep missionaries out) and started to walk up the path to the front door. Just then a small terrier–about the size of a football–barreled out of the house, yipping, yapping and barking non-stop. He came directly at us and I thought, “This is too annoying; I’m going to pop him one so he’ll leave us alone.”

I aimed my left foot at him and caught the middle of his throat. He did a 360-degree somersault, landed on his belly and . . . expired! Dead as a doornail.

We abruptly decided that would not be a profitable home to tract out and left, not quite on the run, but not dawdling either.

I’ll probably have to face that dog in the hereafter. What I’m going to do is, I’m going to fault him for not allowing us to visit that family…

CW

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