paisleypiper's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- our pipsqueak caninero A big accident happened on Sunday which has left Quinn, the pipsqueak pup and I shaken up. Sunday was a beautiful fall day and we were working in the back yard. I had specifically wanted to work in the back yard because it is more peaceful -- most of the neighbors are front-yard socializers. We have a wonderful pergola with some incredible vines growing up one side and across the top -- the vines grow so strong that we need to aggressively trim them in the fall (and several times during the summer). I was on a ladder with the back to our seven foot fence. Quinn was holding the ladder. The pup was tied up over by the house and being quiet, just sort of laying in the sun (not near the seven foot fence). All of the sudden, without provocation or warning, a giant pit bull leapt over the fence. I felt him knock against me and let out a scream as I began to fall off the ladder. I was able to grab hold of the top of the pergola to stabilize myself but to my horror the pit bull saw our little maltese dog and attacked him. The pit bull had pipsqueak in his mouth and was thrashing about with him violently. I put my big grand-daughter-of-an-opera singer lungs to work and began screaming from my stance on the shakey ladder. Quinn rushed over and grabbed the clippers and was about to strike the pit bull when a tattooed man lept over the fence and grabbed the pit bull and freed pipsqueak. Another few seconds and pipsqueak would be dead. But, because the owner was able to leap over the same seven foot fence, we averted disaster. The tattooed man felt (and feels) horrible. He truely had no idea that his pit bull was capable of clearing the fence. He offered to pay for the vet and to dry clean my blood soaked shirt. He took his pit bull home and then came back to help clean pipsqueak who was covered in blood and dog saliva. So he's a decent guy and this is a horrible accident. But Quinn and I cannot help being afraid of our peaceful back yard. We can't help feeling sick that pipsqueak has been in such pain and is now going through an additional fear stage. Because we know that there is no way the pitbull saw our dog through the fence or could even smell him. He is bitty and had been tethered up close to the house, out of our way, and is not a yappy dog. That pit bull was coming after us -- we'd been behaving differently climbing around near the fence with ladders and clippers. We both have this knot in our stomache that our tiny little dog saved us from being attacked. He is a little hero doggy. And as he limps around and tries to muster up a little smile or a small wag of the tail, unaware of the implications, my heart breaks a little. I keep wondering whether Pipsqueak is taking this so well because it is in his doggy nature to handle canine relations for our little pack. I, on the other hand, was fear struck and only knew to yell. And what I've learned is that the yell of shear fear is effective. I was just frozen by the horrible attack on pipsqueak. And this is the way the brain works -- I was not thinking, only yelling. I think because once in a matter of life and death I thought and didn't yell. I turned the tables this time. And feel embarrassed but not guilty. I'll take the embarrassment over the guilt, any day. Sometimes all one can do make the terror real through a scream. When I was a child I was walking to the store on Christmas eve with my friend from two houses up the street and her grandmother. We were getting milk to make chocolate milk. It was a beautiful snowy evening. When it came time to cross the street, the grandmother and my friend started across but I let go of their hand and remained on the sidewalk. A car came from no where, struck them down and sped away. And I stood there, not screaming, just watching the steam rise from their bodies for a moment. When I realized that I could not do anything, I began crying really loudly and people stopped. They stopped in the middle of their Christmas feeling and had the unfortunate occaision to feel how connected we are to those around us. I just cried because that is all a four-year-old can do. That, and find my way home. I did not see the car, could not describe the car and could not tell anyone the liscense plate number. It was dark and snowy, I watched my friend instead of the car. Later the adults talked about it being on purpose and how fortunate it was that for some reason I stopped short. For some reason I hesitated and instead of screaming out a warning I just stood on the side of the road. Only later did I realize that I didn't see anything to warn them about. I stopped because of a feeling I had that I should stop. When I replay it, the car's headlights were off, the snow reduced visibility and in the poor side of town the street lights are spaced further apart, only one per block. But that is what was going through my head almost simultaneously as I was watching pipsqueak get attacked. I find it weird how the pit bull attack could trigger a memory of something so unrelated. I think that the situation was similar -- not seeing the dog, being struck by the violence of the event and feeling terror. I guess they are related in the feeling of terror -- somehow being afraid that that dog was coming after me and got distracted by pipsqueak running towards him. I don't mean to imply that my dog's injury is anywhere near the same scale as this other event. That is what is puzzeling to me.... why was that memory going through my mind? I can only conclude that I live a fortunate life -- that I am not surprised by terrifying situations often enough to not be reminded of this most horrible crime. 11:48 a.m. - 2003-10-07 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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