Phobia

A muddy, snowy side road (just to the side of this lovely building) led to the small, squat building of the Scotch Grove historical society.  My Prius inched along toward it, over a hill, until my path was blocked by a farmer’s extremely territorial dog.  He would not let me proceed or even turn around.

I was confronted by two of my gravest fears:  dogs and getting stuck in the snow.

Frozen briefly with indecision, I eventually inched backwards over the hill.  The dog did not pursue me.

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