I'm always pestering my dad to write down his memories. My relatives will enjoy this one. It happened around 1940.
Fayetteville, Arkansas. I was about eleven years old. I forgot to tell you the rest of the German Shepherd story. Remember when I was going door-to-door selling women's magazines? The local variety store furnished the magazines and gave little prizes for selling so many. I had my eye on a beautiful jack knife, and I wanted it. Most of my territory covered the Greek houses.
The first boys at one house had a German Shepherd dog. As I approached this one particular Frat house they turned loose their dog on me. In a flash, he had my neck in his jaws. The boys pulled him off so he didn't do any permanent damage, and they had their fun, but it scared the hell out of me.
The sororities were much more hospitable. When I came up to a door the girls would all crowd around me and say, “What a cute little boy. Come look at the magazine boy." So after all the girls had their fun they usually bought a magazine. As soon as I sold enough magazines to earn the jack knife, I quit.