And I’m still alive.
Dude!! I’ve lost 13 pounds the old fashioned way (eating better, exercising)! In two months! Not bad. Especially since I don’t eat right all the time, but I do exercise a lot. I’m starting to jog. Short sprints between power walking to boost my heart rate. ME! JOGGING! It’s a miracle. And it feels really, really good. It’s just hard to jog with three dogs, one of which is a beast. Israel would be the best jogging partner, he’s all get-up-and-go and will push to the bitter end, plus he’s like having a giant can of mace—no one messes with me when I’m walking Israel! Depending on if my paycheck comes through and how much I can afford, I want to get a shock absorbing leash for him so we can jog together without him pulling me so I can move my arms.
Last night on a rambling walk around the area we stayed out until it was dark, but since I was on sidewalks and there were street lamps I didn’t worry. Israel blends in perfectly with the shadows because of his coloring and I don’t keep dangling tags on any of the dogs, so we’re quiet on our walks. Just after sunset, a bit darker than twilight, we passed a man walking the opposite direction. I kept all three dogs close to me and they’ll do nothing more than sniff and stick their necks out if someone walks by. The man was a foot away about to pass us when I heard him suck in a harsh breath and choke out, “That’s a pit!!” as he jumped back.
I had to laugh—because that “pit” wasn’t doing anything and wasn’t going to, yet the man acted like Israel was a snake ready to strike. Meanwhile I get lots of comments when I walk my pack.
“DAMN!! Those are some big dogs!” A group of kids across the street yelled, “What kinda dogs are those?”
“That’s a pit bull, she’s a Rottweiler mix, this is a pit mix.”
“WOW! That big one’s a ROTT mix!” one boy said to another.
“DAMN!” they all said. They were like six years old. ::eye roll::
Tonight I was wearing thin socks and realized that was a problem when my feet were slipping around in my shoes, making it very difficult to keep a fast pace. I came back home after the failed start and put on different socks and it was like night and day. I shed my hoodie and walked outside in a t-shirt. I decided I’d walk to my parents house because it’s a nice distance, about 2 1/2 miles. Uneventful until the last stretch of road.
It was dark and I had just put the leash around Israel’s neck as a slip lead because he was being a jerk about pulling despite the anti-pull harness I have on him. Ten seconds later I heard the scrape of nails and see a blur of tan fur come at us in the middle of the road accompanied by a low, warning growl. I had Israel right against my leg and the leash was around the top of his neck, I was choking him to keep him quiet. He is very dog aggressive with strange dogs. Simona usually acts like a total asshole, screaming and jumping around, Judah remains calm. This dog was twice Judah’s size and twice as wide as Israel. I hesitate to sat it’s a pit bull because he was SO huge, but clearly he was a pit bull, just not a real one. It weighed at least 100 pounds. Tail straight up as he circled us. I said out loud, “NO, NO, NO!” expecting a huge dog fight. He came at Judah, sniffing her butt and she tried to sit, her eyes completely averted, and let him sniff her. Simona didn’t do any of her normal routine and kept absolutely quiet. I had Israel clamped between my legs to keep him immobile and thankfully the dog didn’t come near him. I was still choking him to keep his snarling from escalating the situation. I didn’t say anything. I watched the dog carefully. I kept him in front of me, turning slowly to do so. I didn’t move otherwise. He backed off, then advanced again.
I heard a voice and finally saw a silhouette of a woman standing in her driveway.
“Honey, you can come up here! That dog has killed other dogs before! It’s safe over here!”
I was not moving. I never move away from a dog until it moves away from me or I make it move away from me. I had three dogs with me. I have a dog aggressive, strong pit bull. I have a pack of animals that I have to protect, myself included. The dog was HUGE. I kept calm, I stood my ground, I kept Israel quiet, the girls stayed quiet and still. It was a stand off in the dark road. Of course the owners are nowhere to be found. This house is ghetto to begin with—cars everywhere, dogs chained up. No surprise. I had no weapon. I didn’t need one.
The woman was still there, her voice high and thready, scared for me.
The dog stared at me, sniffing the air. He wasn’t even looking at Israel, Israel wasn’t looking at him—none of the dogs would look at each other. Good. His tail was up, he lifted one leg. Bad, bad, bad. That was when Shifra would attack. Shifra was a quarter of this dog’s size.
I love pit bulls. I don’t think they’re evil. But I know all too well the damage they can do when they’re 30 pounds—let alone a hundred pound mix.
And so with the woman pacing nervously and the dog hovering at the edge of the road, he came back towards us and I had had enough. I took one step forward, shoulders squared and said loudly and aggressively, “GET. BACK. NOW.” He fell back several steps, head and tail going down. He turned half away from me. He tried to approach again and I took another step forward, letting him know that no, not this time. I said again in a booming voice, “Back off! GET OUT OF HERE.” It’s not that the dog understood a single word I said, it’s the meaning behind the words he understood.
And with that the dog turned his back on us and trotted off towards the dark yard, disappearing into the brush.
The woman was still there, telling me again I could come stand on her porch where it was safe. I said I was pretty sure I took care of it, I was fine and I thanked her for her concern. She said she would stay and watch while I walked away just in case something happened. I kept glancing behind me, kept quiet. I wanted to run but the sound might trigger him to chase—which is the reason I never walk away from a dog who hasn’t turned it’s back on me first. Since I let him know I wasn’t backing off and I just wanted to be left alone, nor were we a threat to him, he was content to move off. If I had started screaming hysterically and if God hadn’t made me get that leash around Israel’s neck it would’ve been a bloody massacre. I said a quick prayer of thanks, walked a bit further and then jogged to my parent’s house.
My heart was still pounding and I was sweating and I burst in the garage door saying, “I ALMOST DIED!!”
Since nothing happened it seems like I’m exaggerating or the threat wasn’t as bad as all that. But no, it was seconds from disaster. There was no guarantee he would back off but I couldn’t let myself even think it or my energy wouldn’t have been strong enough.
Thank God and thank Cesar Millan.
