Moving along, Sorta

 I am stuck paddling this blog post along, with no clear idea what I will use for topics.  Bear with me, please.

How about starting in the past?  

I had a mundane childhood, appendectomy when I was 10 or so; broken wrist in 5th grade, from a fall on the basketball court; several day-long horse rides, back when no one even thought of liability.  And lots of babysitting, back when the going rate was 50 cents an hour.  Sigh.  Maybe I'll tell about that.

There was a neighbor who, like my dad, was a ham radio operator, and they were just a few houses from ours.  Mom knew them and deemed them "safe" for me to be over there for hours at a time. The "Smiths" liked to go to a local bar on the weekend and they walked there so there was no need to have a designated driver (though that idea wouldn't surface for a long time) but they never seemed boozy to me.  They had -- hoo boy --6 children, ranging from 10 or so down to toddler aged.  They also paid me double the going rate, because of the number of the kids, but they were all in bed when I got there.  The baby just needed to be changed, she would stop fussing and fall back to sleep before I got her in a dry diaper.  The first time that happened I called Mom, who came over and showed me how to do it, then swooped back home.  

But there was one night when things were different.  Mrs. Smith showed me the babies' leg which had a huge lengthy cut stitched up, and said she would cry to be held, not just changed.  They also said to make sure the dog stayed outside, and then they left.  The oldest girl came out and showed me how to cradle her and rock her.  And she told me how she came to have that gash on her leg.

There was a next door family that had a dog which sounded off like a T. Rex whenever anyone passed.  We never saw him because the hedge inside the fence blocked him from view, but boy did he ever sound huge. One day the Smith kids were all playing in their yard, and somehow the fence gate was unfastened and that dog snarled and snapped as he came at the kids.  They all ran for their back door, all but the baby.  That mean SOB grabbed the baby by her leg and turned to go back to his yard, and the oldest girl grabbed up the plastic toy baseball bat and hit him a bunch of times until he dropped the baby and came toward her.  She, bless her heart, grabbed up the baby and ran to the back door with her.  Mrs. Smith was there and immediately took her to the ER.  The gash needed 16 stitches to close.  Mrs. Smith called the sheriff and they took the dog away until they were sure he wasn't rabid and then put him down.  All the kids in the entire neighborhood were glad he was gone, because the bus stop was right on the sidewalk in front of his yard, and he sounded so ferocious.    

So when I sat for them after that the baby cried pretty much all the time unless she was being held and rocked.  She was terrified of dogs, even their own little rag mop dog, and they gave him away soon.  I don't know if she ever got over that awful day.  There are dogs everywhere, on TV, in books and magazines, walking quietly on a leash, it would be hard to protect her from all of that.

One of my friends sat for a different family, and one night she said there was a face looking through the window from outside.  She called the police and they stirred up a commotion looking all around.  I myself doubted there was anyone there, the police said there were no shoe marks under the window, and she was a real Nervous Nellie.  (They never called her for sitting again either.)  She always gave her babysitting money to the church, and I'm sure they never missed those dollars.  She borrowed money from me, and never paid me back, come to think of it.  Do you suppose there would be a big amount owed, compounded every year?  Probably not... 👀