For the past couple of weeks, I’ve put off writing this post because it was my worst nightmare. Thankfully, the nightmare didn’t complete itself.
During the past couple of years, Izzy and I have walked the streets of my neighborhood and others, exploring the world around us and often coming face to face with things, animals, people that threatened us. Other dogs (remember Nasty Dog? Haven’t seen him lately), skunks, people who didn’t like dogs. But we’ve either fled from them or were able to deal with the situation. That wasn’t the case a couple of weeks ago.
I was walking down the driveway talking to my friend/next door neighbor when a large German Shepherd wandered up the driveway. I watched the stray near Deb and so did Izzy. For the first time since I’ve had my little buddy, he barked at another dog. Usually, his tail wags and he pulls at the leash so he can go say hello to the dogs we see on our walks. This one was threatening, and the only thing I can surmise now is that the dog was nearing Deb, one of Izzy’s best human friends.
I had the retractable leash and before I could stop him, Izzy was at the end of it, and he and the Shepherd were checking each other out, both tails wagging. They did the usual sniffing routine, and I watched attentively, looking for signs that the other dog posed a threat. She seemed okay.
Then she headed down the lawn toward me, and within a heartbeat, Izzy’s leash tangled around the Shepherd’s legs and they were on top of each other. Right in front of me. Biting. Snarling. Growling.
Izzy’s 16 pounds. The Shepherd was at least 90. And Izzy was under the Shepherd.
I screamed. Deb screamed. My mind flashed back to the nightmares I’ve had about losing Izzy to an attack. My own memories of being attacked by a Chow surfaced.
I pulled Izzy’s leash. That made it worse. Now the Shepherd had Izzy’s head in her mouth.
I knew I had to get the dog off my boy. Digging my hands into the ruff of her neck, I yelled for Deb. I kicked the leash handle between the Shepherd’s legs.
“Take Izzy! Run! Now!”
Deb took the leash and pulled Izzy while I held the struggling Shepherd.
It seemed to take forever for Deb and Izzy to flee but when I knew they were gone, I let the other dog go, fully expecting the dog to go for me. Instead, the Shepherd raced up the driveway where Deb and Izzy had gone.
I followed as quickly as my legs would carry me, screaming at the dog. Screaming for anyone. Screaming.
The dog circled the house, leaving me an opening to dash in through Deb’s back door. She was standing there, with Izzy on a blanket in the middle of the floor. Deb’s face, white as a sheet of paper, reflected my own. I started shaking uncontrollably and sank to my knees beside Izzy.
Deb’s husband Danny took a fireplace poker and went back outside while Deb and I checked Izzy for bites. His entire body was wet, his black eyes wide, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. But he was okay. No blood.
For an hour afterward, we waited for the dog officer to arrive to take care of the Shepherd, who was still roaming the neighborhood. We watched the dog follow the mailman from house to house and now that we had time to look at her, I could see the fur matted on her hind end, the obvious hunger and thirst in her eyes and evident by her lolling tongue. Still, she had no collar. No tags. And I was terrified to go back outside, even without Izzy.
Finally, the dog officer arrived and when I told him Izzy had been attacked, he said, “That’s not an attack.”
Excuse me? I was watching my dog being overpowered by a much larger one and that wasn’t an attack? Needless to say, the Boston in me came out and I gave the guy a piece of my mind. We have a leash law. This dog was definitely not on a leash, not with a person, and posing a danger to other dogs and humans.
They found the Shepherd and took her to the pound. I hate to think what happened to her afterward. But even more so, I hate to think what would have happened to my Izzy if I hadn’t been able to control the Shepherd.
More than anything else, I realized how important it is to have animals under control. And I’m now going to fight for a stronger leash law in this town.
Funny, the attack happened more than two weeks ago, and I’m still trembling as I write this. The PTSD I suffered for years after the dog attack that left me with partially disabled hands came back full force, but I’m kind of glad it did because it gave me the adrenaline rush I needed to save Izzy.
Now, the work begins.