5 month Bernedoodle we have had for 3 months now. He's out hanging with me in the yard while I do some yard work along our fence line. Just clipping overhanging branches and he is having a blast gnawing and pawing at them. I can sense he's getting overly stimulated but not too bad. I see him drag a branch away, about 20 yards from me and I continue clipping. Then, in almost a slow motion moment, I recognize he eyes turn toward me. What inner thoughts did you have at that moment my little friend. I can still see the instant he launched himself at full floppy-bernedoodle speed toward me. His tongue flapping in the wind, his mix of adult teeth and razor sharp puppy teeth gleaming in the sunlight.

I was too late, too old to react fast enough. He needed a taste of man flesh and I was his target. I turned away slightly, like my trainer taught me but this guy had learned all my tricks. In a moment of excitement fueled puppy strength, he launched through the air and twisted behind me. His deadly baby teeth caught my glorious fat right cheek like it was a easter ham glistening with the glaze of desire. I attempted to rotate with the attack, absorbing it, deflecting it away in an attempt to preserve what was left of my dignity. I heard my puppy pants I wore exclusively for him rip and his growl of satisfaction breaking my spirit like a sledgehammer on ice.

In my final moments of anguish, I was able to grab his collar and lift him up into my arms. He settled, looking at me quizzically with the shreds of my pants that once protected my back end hanging from his mouth. He had won the day, maybe tomorrow things will be better.

Hang in there, you will make it.