The Dog

I should have known better.

I was midway to the gate, running towards my car as best I could while managing my heavy home health bag on my shoulder. The snarling Rottweiler-German Shepherd broke free, hurtling towards me like a rocket. Its sidekick, an annoying Pomeranian that fancied itself bigger than it could ever hope to be, had already been nipping at my heels.

Remembering what my Red Cross-trained husband had taught me, should I ever face down a dog like this,I suddenly whirled around and abruptly faced Zeus. I pointed my finger at its face as if my finger was a foot-long magic wand, and shouted “OUT!” To my amazement, Zeus stopped in his tracks, his mission suddenly disrupted by confusion.

The sound of the “OUT!” jogged a memory within the dog of its mom nipping or barking at it when she’d had enough of its shenanigans. The stance and the shout also let it know I was claiming Alpha, and not to be messed with, even though my small frame belied any Alpha-ness.

The annoying Pomeranian retreated with its boss, and I was able to escape through the gate and shut it tightly. The sound of the gate jarred both dogs out of the spell of confusion, and they raced after me again. I didn’t wait to see what would happen, and practically slid into my car.

I arrived home and shared my story with my husband John. Concerned, he warned me, “You shouldn’t go back. It’s unsafe.”

Well sure. I knew of the risk from the get-go, as the case manager assessment detail said: “Before arriving for physical therapy, be sure dog is restrained on leash before entering yard. Dog has been known to bite caregivers.”

This dog, Zeus, had been rescued from drug dealers down the street by my patient, Tom, and his girlfriend, Lisa (not their real names). Trained by the dealers to be a guard dog, it needed some serious rehabilitation. Naively, the couple thought chaining Zeus in the yard and feeding it was enough.

Tom’s balance and gait problems, which I saw him for, kept him from exercising the dog. He was eager to regain his ability to walk safely so that he could work with the dog. Meanwhile, Zeus clearly felt its job was to continue an aggressive watch over their place.

At every home visit, Tom made sure Zeus was restrained until I was safely in the house or outside the gate by my car. And at every visit, Tom’s ability and confidence improved, so that by the time Zeus broke free to chase me, we had one more visit. And he needed that visit.

So yes, I did what every wife has done at least once to the sage advice of their husband. Or, for that matter, what every person has done to the one close to them, giving them a wise suggestion. I disregarded the caution and returned to Tom and Lisa’s and Zeus’ house.

When I arrived, Zeus appeared calm. Or maybe he was sullen. I recommended a long walk in the neighborhood for Tom, so that he would feel confident with the various challenges. I’d be addressing how to manage these, as well as pacing.

Tom restrained his dog while I exited the yard, but then called me back.

“Zeus will jump through the screen door. Can you come back and shut the other door so he doesn’t get into the house?” Tom was holding onto Zeus’ chain with difficulty; Zeus was getting impatient.

Against my better judgment, I did as he asked.

Just as I reached the threshold and lay hold of the doorknob, Zeus broke free. He lunged at me from 6 feet away, his jaw landing squarely on my left hip/buttock.

Angry, I shouted at Zeus, pulled away from him, and fortunately his jaw released, allowing me to reflexively jump inside the house and slam the door behind me. He was doing his job, protecting the house and owner.

I pulled my pants down from my hip enough to see the damage. Not only had he punctured skin in several areas, but an imprint of Zeus’ entire jaw was on my hip! And it hurt. Those were strong jaws.

Tom came in to see if I was all right. “I’m calling Animal Control,” I informed him, and showed him Zeus’ work. He winced and nodded.

It took about 20 minutes for Animal Control to arrive, even though they were already in the neighborhood, dealing with another dog crisis. Yes, the area unfortunately was becoming known for this, I learned later.

When the officer arrived, I explained to her what happened. And then Tom panicked. “It didn’t really do anything. Just nipped her playfully. Didn’t even break the skin.”

I looked at the officer, in disbelief. “Want to see the ‘playful nip’?”She nodded, and I showed her the dog’s handiwork, which now was beginning to bruise nicely, with all the teeth marks visible.

“Wow.” She pressed her lips together. “That’s gotta hurt. You up to date on your T-DAP vaccinations?”

I nodded.

“K. You okay with me taking pictures? I’ll keep your face out of it.” My hip got photographed, and then she called in the case.

When she finished, she turned to Tom and instructed him in the protocol of quarantining the dog. Animal Control in our state doesn’t quarantine at their facility except for special cases or repeat offenders.

“But this is a repeat offender. I have it documented by the case manager that the dog has been known to have bitten several times.” I was concerned.

She informed me, “Unless someone reports the dog, which no one has, then this is a first-time incident. In which case, Quarantine happens at home.”

I persisted. “But how do you know the owners do what they’re supposed to?”

Honor system was the reply.

My frontal lobe filter was gone by this time. “You’re going to rely on the word of someone who just lied to you about his dog’s behavior? His girlfriend is not around to help him during the day to watch the dog, and I can tell you he will not do it.”

But there was nothing I could do.

Taking my sore hip home, I cleaned it up, although the bite was pretty clean, with no ripping or tearing. Clearly, Zeus was giving me a warning. Having been bitten in the past, I knew there was nothing more to do but just watch it and keep anti-bacterial on it.

A few days later, my triathlon team met at our local lake for a long bike ride. I rolled up my shorts to reveal Zeus’ mouth now branded in black and blue on my hip. You could see all of the teeth marks. Horrified, my friends asked me to cover it back up.“That looks hideous!!”

I could still ride, for which I was thankful. Near the end of the ride, I received a phone call. It was the Animal Control officer. “I just thought you’d like to know that Tom and his friend have decided to put Zeus down.”

I was saddened for the dog. “Why? What made them change their mind?”

“They confessed that there had been a few more incidents. And since there was a toddler next door, well, they didn't want a tragedy on their hands.”

Indeed. They should have known better than to take on Zeus.