The day Satan went nuts ...Church parishioners bare witness.

It's Sunday morning and the sermon has just concluded.  Pristine weather allowed the stain glass windows to remain open, and morning sun dutifully illuminated them against the buildings white exterior.   Many people are still sitting in the pews.. some are exiting the building, including the few that have paused to chat on the second-story landing of the brick staircase.  The streets were quiet, as Sunday mornings typically are.  Birds flitted about readying their nests on this blessed spring day.  Squirrels foraged and feasted on the finds they hid away the months before.  All was lovely... a perfect day for a long walk with our dog... or so one foolishly thought.

A beautiful black german shepherd, with a coat that shined to rival the shine of her black eyes.  Love and affection radiated - literal pools of adoration - as she looked upon us, her family members.  We could never figure out why her previous owners did not want her.  Or why for that matter they named her, of all things, Satan.  She was obedient and protective.

Mom and her K-9 companion were blissfully walking down the street as the parishioners were leaving.  {Cue the squirrel}  Satan spotted it right away.  A flick flick of the tail was all it took.  Satan was off, bolting full force towards her tormentor, my mother in perilous tow... her joints straining against her struggling limbs.  The force was such that she was thrown off balance and jostled clear out of a shoe.  Now hopping on one foot, holding on for dear life... she began begging... loudly.... 

“Satan Stop!  Noooo... Satan STOP!!”  

The squirrel retreated to a nearby tree limb, more assured by its safety than my mothers questionable limbs were equipped to offer... though she tried.   While the squirrel squawked and twitched from the safety up above, my mother succumbed to lurch, after lurch.

“Satan!  Satan Stop!  NoOOoo... Satan STOP!!” 

The dog pulled her to and fro.

Remember those parishioners?  From the landing above audible gasps could be heard.  My mother looked up to see their disapproving glances... first at her, then at each other.  

“Oh No!”  Mom, recognizing how it must have sounded and looked, desperately tried to explain.  “It’s the dogs name.”  As if that was going to help her case... “I lost my shoe when she pulled me to chase the squirrel” still hopping along on one foot, and holding on for dear life.  She pointed - amidst her struggles - to the still squawking, twitching - and she swears laughing - rodent overhead.  

No absolution from her current audience could be sensed... not today.  They stood on their lofty balcony unamused. 

Somehow Mom regained her composure.  Satan was successfully reigned in, though the parishioners might have had a varying opinion... With her head held intentionally high and a hobble in her step, her shoe was reclaimed.

It wasn’t until ‘safely’ home did the humor of the situation reveal.

What, after all, can anyone hope for in this life... but to survive the wrath of Satan?  Well my church going, bible reading {truly an upstanding human being, I swear} mother did.  She survived a serious run with Satan and the heckling squirrel... and with a devout audience to boot.