Note: photos are from happier encounters.
On Columbus Day, BC was
attacked by what I call a Santa Lucia dog.
I’m pretty good about identifying canines (except today’s
Cock-and-Poodle designer breeds), but for me this dog was something new: an Andolian Shepherd…haven’t got a photo…look
it up. Enormous. My friends own the culprit, and two of her
offspring guard the livestock next door.
“Whatever you do, make sure
BC doesn’t get through the fence…they’ll tear her to pieces. (Papillion) Zoey was almost a snack when she
snuck through the gate.”
They look like they can easily leap over that 6 footer if they
choose, but I was assured they won’t try; just don’t get into THEIR space. Their owner/my landlady guessed that, upon
proper introduction, the young male might be fine, but the older female would
not be pleased at all. Not a problem; I always
keep BC tied when outside, since she sometimes bolts.
It was a beautiful Indian Summer
morning, and I’d planned on helping my friend organize her greenhouse clutter. This past summer I tackled Mom’s house, so
I’m still in the groove. BC
accompanies me whenever possible, and doesn’t mind being tied to a tree with
her water and blankie. Five other dogs
on the ranch property generally leave her alone after the initial
bark-and-sniff.
But the sixth canine
resident, whose job is to repel wolves and is usually contained during the day,
was out. Visiting grandkids left her
gate open, and despite being a sweet, docile, in your face kind of dog on the
back porch, apparently if she doesn’t want to go back inside the pen, there’s
no gettin' her in. She’s the size of
the Hound of the Baskervilles.
During the past three years
Harika and BC have never met, so I decided to check with my friends before
letting BC out of the truck. His thought was it would be alright,
they’d work it out; but she was not
as convinced and followed me out to supervise.
Segue:
Due to the numbness in my hands and arms, I was frequently dropping BC’s
retractable leash; so I attached an oversized loop of satin decorator cord to
the handle, which I toss over my head and one arm. I was in the process of hooking her up when
Harika came snooping, and, suddenly nose to nose, hormones exploded.
It was terrifying. I just remember spinning in an attempt to
protect BC’s neck, screaming, “No, no;” the words, “tear her to pieces” ringing in my
head. My friend was also uselessly hollering
while trying to get Harika under control, but no sooner were they
separated momentarily that she'd go after BC again. I became tangled in BC’s leash until I was
tossed onto the ground in the melee; they were finally separated long enough
for me to untwist and get BC back into the truck. Harika just circled and kept following
me; unnerving, to say the least.
I checked BC over and she
seemed alright; wasn’t whimpering or favoring any part of her anatomy. Unbeknownst to me at the time, we were both
in shock. I cut short my visit and took
her home, where she commenced to shiver and would not move. Like people who lift cars in emergencies, my
adrenaline allowed me to pick her up and carry her in and out of the house. She’s a bit chubby, so that was no easy feat. Upon closer inspection (she’s got a wool
undercoat), I found two puncture wounds in her shoulder blade but nothing else
other than dried drool, yuk.
I’m afraid, because of my
religious upbringing, I am utterly useless at First Aid. My friend came for a look-see and agreed that
BC appeared spooked but not injured seriously; she’ll probably be sore for awhile,
and retreating for a time is normal canine behavior. Remember, she said: there’s the victor and the vanquished. BC, bless her, is definitely an Alpha Female,
and wants to lead.
How ‘bout me? No problems; I bounce well. But my anguish over what did and what might
have happened undoubtedly affected BC’s recovery. She hardly moved for 3 days.
“Get back to acting
normal,” my friend chided. Thanks, I
needed that mental slap. Getting BC out
of the house of her own accord was finally accomplished only when she thought
she’d miss a road trip. Her desire to
stick her head out the window overcame her temporary fear of open spaces, but she
still refuses to jump out the back of the truck, where the attack began.
Despite momentary flashes
of fangs and the horrible growls and yelps of a dogfight, I had no fear for my
own safety. But now that I’ve had time
to think about it, it’s gonna take time for me to relax when I’m out, too. I’ll not be introducing BC to any dog larger
than something I can kick the shit out of.
For awhile, at least.
Not the brightest when
it comes to animal behavior, but in hindsight, Harika probably thought I was
under her protection and the dogs were not properly introduced; certainly there
were other factors. I learned one
valuable lesson: not to be
overly-trusting of a sweet dog.
Dogs will be dogs, but my
ignorance put BC in that volatile situation, and I’ll have the big G for that
for a long time. Fortunately she’s
forgiven me and is back to her old self, more or less.
The Vet said BC was very
lucky, based on similar attacks. Minor
infection in one puncture; easily cured with antibiotics. What about her nerves, I asked? Got some drugs for her; for me? I need a Dog Whisperer. She laughed and related a story about her own dog, traumatized following an attack:
“He had once a week
play-dates with a big, old, dopey dog (under owner
supervision). Took a year, but
eventually the dog stopped fearing and showing aggression towards other dogs.”
We’ll give it a try.
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