My family and I drove 6 hours to Denver for my son’s final interview for a national program. After a late dinner, we finally checked into our hotel late Friday night.
On Saturday morning, I went out for a walk after my morning routine of tea and prayer. It was about eight-thirty. The sun was high in the sky. Around an inch of snow was on the ground.
I was walking in a newly developed area. Many spaces on both sides of the road were open and for sale. We came from the south of the road the previous night, and I decided to continue walking into the north.
At the first block on my right was an open field covered with fresh snow. “Let me practice my pitch to the Shark Tank’s open call,” I thought. You see, their open call is today.
Standing on the unpaved sidewalk, facing the white opening and shining sun, I started, “Hello! Sharks!”
After about a mile, I reached almost the end of the developing area. No more building or construction. A railway crossed the road with passenger trains running to and from the airport.
I decided to turn left and go back using the street backside of the main road. After a couple of blocks and practices of my pitch, I saw an extended field with the Rocky Mountains in the far west.
“I can go there and practice.” The morning sun had melted most of the snow. I realized the field was previously a wheat field, now waiting to be developed. A dirt path leads to a mound about my height.
“Let me use this dirt pile as my platform,” I thought to myself. I saw remains of bicycles, some plywood, and other manmade material when came closer to the pile.
Stepping onto the pile, I noticed a ditch hiding behind the dirt. About a dozen or so tents were lined along the hillside. Thinking I shouldn’t disturb anyone, I retreated quietly.
About a third on the path to the street, “Hello! Sharks!” I started again, facing the sun in the southeast. An echo came back from a row of buildings several hundred yards away. And as the echo passed me, I heard a sudden “WHOOF!” A dog had heard my announcement and was now bounding over at the invitation.
It is a bulldog, barking and running. The normally docile and friendly bulldog suddenly seemed so vicious to me as it came closer.
In no time, the dog came within yards of where I stood. Slightly bigger than my own Gerrman Shepherd, with a white and brown body, the bulldog’s mouth opens frighteningly wide as he barks.
I turned to face him and backed away fast and then slowly as he approached. I bent and reached my hand to the ground as he was prepared to lunge. My move made him slow his pace. He swings from one side to another.
I reached my arms out to both sides, and he maintained his pace and kept up with me. I used one hand to unbutton my coat and quickly took it off.
I grab my coat with both hands and open it wide in front of me, swinging it from side to side as the bulldog moves. Gradually, he backed ten feet away, then fifteen, then twenty feet away.
At that time, a figure came upon the pile of dirt and called the dog, who hesitated first and eventually ran to his master. I gratefully waved the person goodbye.
I came to another higher pile of dirt about 30-40 feet high several blocks away where no tents were nearby. My practices went uninterrupted.
With the energy from the sun, the Rocky Mountains, and the bulldog, I am getting prepared to have a good fight with the Sharks.