Remembering: Bad Mothers? Just Panic?

So I was over at my grandmother's house today. My cousin is here on vacation with his wife, and so as we usually do- we began talking about things that happened in our past. One thing came up. It was back when I was 10, or 11, years old. Also there: My mother, sister (a year older than I am) and twin brother, my mother's sister and her oldest son (same age as my sister, and brother to the cousin that is here on vacation). So the oldest of the kids were still no older than 11 or 12.

Anyway, we were in Detroit. It was a nice time. One afternoon while walking down the street, we passed a junk yard. The gates were fully open, and as it turned out there was a large dog there. As we walked past the place, the dog saw us and began to bark- next thing we know he is running after us. So what do the parents do? They ran! My aunt dropped her purse on the floor, knocked her son on the floor, and ran to the other side of the street. Right behind her was my mother. This meant that they left the kids behind to be attacked by the dog.

It turned out the dog was chained up, so he didn't even reach the gates. We were fine. The four kids, we hadn't made it to the other side of the street. When we saw my cousin fall on the floor we went to him to help him. He was bleeding from the knee. We picked up my aunt's purse and met them on the other side.

Although my cousin was hurt, although they had left us kids unprotected on this side of the street where the dog was- we couldn't help but laugh about it later on.