Last night I decided to take Mr. Cooper for a walk in my ‘hood, instead of getting dog hair all over my car.
We were trotting along happily when suddenly a seemingly rabid large dog came charging at us from a yard to our right. It attacked Mr. Cooper outright. It appeared to be some sort of mangy Chow mix. They were on their back legs and going for each others throats. There was snarling and spit flying and I was terrified. It’s a sinking feeling to have a dog on a leash while it’s getting attacked. I wasn’t sure what exactly to do.
I was reeling. I pulled Mr. Cooper violently towards me. I screamed at the top of my lungs at the aggressive hound. “No! GO AWAY! GET! GO! GO!!!”
As I struggled with my pepper spray I frantically looked around. There was a guy working on his car at the house that the dog came from. I shrieked, “Hey! Help! Pleeeease call your dog!”
He turned and looked over his shoulder, as he was face down under the hood of his car. Then he turned back and kept working as if there wasn’t a frantic woman and her dog being attacked in front of his house…BY HIS DOG. I was frozen with disbelief. I looked down at the dog and he leaned back on his haunches and lunged at me. I shit you not. Mr. Cooper (junkyard but full of valor) went airborne and caught the dog right in front of my chest. I flew backwards and onto the ground. I started scrambling to get up, even though the wind was knocked out of me. Suddenly there was a teenage boy standing over me. The dogs had separated for a moment and he stood between them, finger pointing to the home that Cujo had emerged from. He yelled “GO HOME!!”, and the dog turned around and headed back to his house. I was shaking and a more than little bit rattled. I started walking quickly away. I just wanted to get away from there.
The kid offered, “Are you okay”? I was stunned and still scared that Cujo would return. I told him I was and I thanked him. I also yelled again to the car “mechanic”, to no avail. I think I just yelled “FUCK”!! a few times and mentioned that there are leash laws in our county.
I got around the corner and checked Mr. Cooper for wounds. He seemed okay. His neck was covered in spit and foam. The whole way home he’d turn and look over his shoulder at me every few minutes as if to say, “DOOD. What the hell was that? Did you see that shit?!?”
Every step of the walk home made me angrier than the last. I kept thinking about that fat fuckstick fixing his car and purposely ignoring me while I screamed for help. I was incensed. When I got home I got in my car and drove past the house again, to write down the address. Fuckstick and his inbred family were in the driveway smoking cigarettes. I started to slow my car to say something but then realized that there were five of them. Maybe not.
I called the police and they gave me two options; they can send over an officer, or I can report it to Animal Control in the morning and they’ll go check it out. I didn’t feel like waiting up half the night for an officer so I decided to call Animal Control this morning. Although, now in retrospect I think I should of had a Cop pay them a visit. I guarantee the officer would have found much more in their home than just a dangerous dog.
I’m not trying to make a mountain out of molehill here. The dog lunged at me and attacked my dog, who was on a leash. I was on a public street minding my own business. What if I had been walking with a child?
I called Animal Control this morning. They said they’d see if there has been a prior complaint. If so, they’d send an officer out…if not, they’d send them a “warning” letter. I’m here to tell you, that guy in the yard would wipe his butt with a warning letter. I hung up, completely unsatisfied. Suddenly my office neighbor Jason piped up and offered an interesting tidbit. He mentioned that if a dog is reportedly being abused or neglected, they have to send an officer out. I suddenly remembered that there was another dog in the yard, but uninvolved in the attack. I noticed it as I was scrambling to get away. I could see its ribs poking through its sides. It looked absolutely pitiful. I called Animal Control back and told them about the other dog. I *may* have mentioned that I thought it had been burned with lit cigarettes. Complete and utter lie, but the dog did look severely malnourished. These people belong in Hell.
I tell you what, it’s a good thing my Dad’s temper is *somewhat* watered down in me. My first thought last night was to drive to their home with a pork chop soaked in rat poison.
And that was for the owner.