And my pants are just fine...

There's a nice-sized hill north of my house here in Council Grove called Nanny-Goat hill that I chose to walk this evening. Uphill.

On this hill there's a road, and about 3/4 of the way up the hairs on my necks sent me a signal:

"Dude, something is not right!"

I stopped, pulled the headphones out of my ears, and turned around. Not 50 feet away was a large dog, staring at me, possibly thinking "Mmmm... dinner." It was backlit, and was entirely black from my perspective. It was the size of a full-grown Rottweiler, but its ears were too big and its tail was long and bushy.

The road was cut into the hill, and I had a limestone wall one side of me and dark forest on the other. The nearest house was a almost a football field away, the nearest intersection even further. It was just me, and the dog.

He kept staring. I stared back. He started barking, and stopped to see if I'd do anything. He did it again. I still didn't move.

I raised my left foot and stomped. He started running full-tilt, away from me.

"That's what I thought," I yelled before turning and going home, checking over my shoulder every ten steps.