At the age of seven, I was confident to be out on my own. Our isolated area gave me courage to explore alone. From the grounds, I could travel in three directions. The main one was to walk up the long tree-lined drive; with its neat gravel surface there was little scope for play. A route through the farm and down the farm paths led to the main wood. Originally, this had been part of the grounds to the house but had been sold off many years before. I was however allowed to use the path, but as it did not lead to any interesting areas, it was seldom taken.

The farm used the third entrance. This small private lane was in a muddy state almost all the year. Part way along the lane was a small market garden, growing vegetables and flowers. This also contributed to the mud, only on the days I was out at play did I venture along this route, as it was a quicker exit from the grounds of the house. I had only made little contact with the man who ran the market garden. There was a German Shepherd dog that roamed around. From an early stage, I learnt that although the dog was there to keep guard, he was quite friendly when the owner was around to keep him under control.

On one occasion I was making my way down the lane when the dog bounded up from the distance. I was not afraid and knew not to run off as the dog might attack. The owner was nowhere to be seen. The dog did not bite but its large powerful mass soon had me on the ground. There were no snarls or biting from the dog, it just tried to keep me on the ground. I was eventually allowed to get up. I decided to return home but the dog seemed to have other ideas. By size the dog was larger than me: when outstretched, the paws came above my shoulders. I could feel the claws digging in every time I tried to move away. The dog tried to grab me again. Finally, when I was far enough away from the site, the dog returned home.

Arriving home in a muddy and bleeding state, it looked worse than it really was; my mother could not understand how there were so many scratch marks on my shoulders and across my back. If the dog had attacked me why did I not have any bite marks?

Shortly after cleaning me up, my mother went to visit the owner of the dog to find out what had happened. On her return, it seemed the dog had just been playing; it was my own fault for just wearing a thin T-shirt. When I was going to use the lane, it might be best I wore my duffle coat for more protection if I was going to play with the large dog.

For several nights, I did have nightmares over the dog, but this might have occurred as it coincided with a play on the radio, that was read over several nights, about The Keeper of the Dead, who had the body of a man and the head of a dog. Our isolated house did not give much reassurance to a seven-year-old boy that, with its many passages and rooms, Anubis was not lurking in wait for me.

I started wetting the bed for several nights over the fear of leaving my room. There followed the scolding from my mother, the plimsoll and the cold baths, but later I seemed to get over the problem and did not mind the dark passages of the house

It was some time before I had the courage to venture down the lane again; then it was simply luck that the owner of the dog was around when I did decide to go in that direction. I was reassured that the dog was only playing; I now found out that the dog was behaving in a way some male dogs did. On later occasions when I was alone and the dog came up to me, I stood perfectly still. The dog putting his paws on my now protected shoulders soon finished his antics and I was left alone to continue down the lane.

Continued

Please click on link

http://www.philipastrangechild.com/page_1170414444250.html

.