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I was an army brat.  Dad served in the navy during the war and later he joined the army. In 1950 he was a Sergeant in the 5th Army stationed in Vienna.  As “dependents” we were housed in an apartment building that was quite nice, 41 Gregor Mendel Strasse.  There were two marble faced fireplaces and a baby grand piano along with a crystal chandelier in the dining room. 

I ran with a group of other army brats and I was the oldest in the group. Nine years old.  One day in February we were hanging out in front of the large estate on the corner next to our apartment.  One of the kids put his hand in the fence opening and a dog took his mitten.  I bravely offered to go through the gate and recover the mitten.  I still remember starting my walk across the large yard toward the two “Boxers”.  They greeted me by jumping up and knocking me to the ground.  They proceeded to chew on my arms and legs. I covered my face with my arms. There was a fairly large crowd watching and finally the Austrian man who we referred to as the “fireman”, (he took care of the furnace in our apartment building) came in and pulled the dogs off of me. 

I walked home and my mother fainted when she opened the door.  I spent about 6 weeks in the Army hospital.  It took me a while to get over my fear of dogs.  The occupant of the estate was a Colonel in the army and they did give me a new winter coat.

“Tell me, what else should I have done?  Doesn’t everything die at last and too soon?  Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”  From The Summer Day by Mary Oliver